“I Won’t Plant Too Much. I Know You Won’t Leave Me. Your Conscience Won’t Let You Be Lazy”

Vincent stood at the edge of his backyard, surveying the plot of land that had become his weekend battleground. The sun was already high, casting long shadows over the freshly tilled soil. He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced over at Michael, who was lounging on a deck chair, sipping iced tea.

“Michael, I don’t get it,” Vincent said, shaking his head. “Why do you insist on turning this place into a vegetable garden? We could just plant some grass, set up a few chairs, and enjoy our weekends.”

Michael looked up, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Vincent, you know me. I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Besides, growing our own vegetables is rewarding. It’s good for the soul.”

Vincent sighed, knowing that arguing with Michael was futile. His friend had always been the industrious type, never one to shy away from hard work. But Vincent couldn’t help but feel that they were missing out on the simple pleasures of life.

“Alright, but don’t expect me to help too much,” Vincent said, picking up a shovel reluctantly. “I’ll plant a few things, but I’m not going to break my back over this.”

Michael chuckled. “I know you won’t leave me hanging. Your conscience won’t let you be lazy.”

As the weeks went by, Vincent found himself increasingly drawn into the project. He spent hours weeding, watering, and tending to the plants. Despite his initial reluctance, he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt as he watched the garden flourish.

One evening, as they sat on the porch admiring their handiwork, Vincent turned to Michael. “You know, this isn’t so bad after all. But I still think we could have just planted some grass and called it a day.”

Michael laughed. “Maybe you’re right. But look at what we’ve accomplished. This garden is a testament to our hard work and dedication.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Violet, their neighbor, appeared at the gate, her face etched with worry.

“Vincent, Michael,” she called out. “Have you seen Ruby? She went out to play earlier and hasn’t come back.”

Vincent’s heart sank. Ruby was Violet’s young daughter, a sweet girl who often played in their yard while her mother worked. He exchanged a worried glance with Michael before they both sprang into action.

They searched the neighborhood, calling out Ruby’s name, but there was no sign of her. As night fell, their anxiety grew. The once peaceful garden now seemed like a cruel reminder of their helplessness.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no trace of Ruby. The garden that had once brought them joy now felt like a burden. Vincent found it increasingly difficult to muster the energy to tend to it.

One evening, as he stood in the garden, Vincent felt a wave of despair wash over him. He had hoped that their hard work would bring them closer together, but instead, it had only highlighted their helplessness in the face of tragedy.

Michael joined him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Vincent. We can’t give up hope.”

But as the months passed with no news of Ruby, their optimism waned. The garden became overgrown and neglected, a stark contrast to the vibrant oasis it had once been.

In the end, Vincent realized that no amount of hard work could fill the void left by Ruby’s disappearance. The garden that had once symbolized their dedication now stood as a painful reminder of their loss.