Janine sat on her front porch and took a drag from a cigarette. She closed her eyes, enjoying the nicotine head rush. It had been a long time since she’d smoked out in the open like this. Usually, she’d have to duck behind the shed out back so Donna wouldn’t see. “Checking on the garden,” she’d say before slipping out for a sneaky cigarette. Janine took pride in her garden, Donna knew, so there was no reason to be suspicious. Even if Donna did know that she was secretly smoking again, their relationship had bigger problems than Janine’s nicotine habit. She took another deep inhale, listening to the crickets chirp in the quiet night like they were her own personal crowd of cheering fans. “Doesn’t matter what Donna thinks now, does it?” she chuckled. On cue, the engine of the old Ford rumbled up the gravel driveway. Janine was momentarily blinded by headlights before the engine died and Donna came flying out of the driver’s side door, blond hair frizzing around her head like she’d been electrocuted. Janine watched from the darkened porch as Donna ran to the Jeep parked in front of the house. Donna hadn’t noticed Janine sitting there. She was at the Jeep, looking through the back window that Janine had intentionally left open. Donna instantly staggered back. “Janine,” Donna croaked. “JANINE!” Still hidden in the shadowy porch, Janine blew a cloud of smoke into the air. She waited a moment before reaching up behind her and flicking on the porch light. An eerie orange glow illuminated her from above. “Yes, my love?” She took another drag and exhaled, the smoke dancing in the light. Donna ran to the porch steps, but stopped abruptly before setting foot on the lowest step. In the light, she could see the dirt on Janine’s hands as she lifted the cigarette to her lips. She could see the smears of dirt on her clothes, on her face. She could see the dark stains covering Janine’s shirt and jeans. “What have you done?” she breathed. “Hmmm?” Janine took a final drag from the cigarette before snubbing it out on the arm of the rocking chair Donna’s father had made for them as a wedding present. “I’ve been gardening.” “In the middle of the night?” Donna asked. Janine nodded. “I planted some lovely roses. You should take a look.” She swallowed. Her lips pressed together in a tight seal, as if holding something back. And then Janine laughed. Hysterical, booming laughter that echoed through the woods surrounding the little white house that had been such a place of joy for so many years. Donna sprinted around the house, to Janine’s smoking shed and her prized garden. Janine readied another cigarette, lighter in hand, and waited. She heard the clatter of metal as Donna grabbed one of the shovels leaning against the shed. Heard the soft shick-shick of someone digging in soft earth. It was midnight just as a piercing scream rang through the garden. Janine brought the cigarette to her lips and lit its waiting tip with the lighter. She inhaled, and sighed deeply into the night.