The morning air was cool and still as I stepped into my yard, barefoot and carrying a small ceramic gnome. With rosy cheeks, a green hat, and a mischievous smile, he looked right at home nestled under the rose bushes. I placed him there carefully—my quiet, whimsical guardian.
But peace didn’t last long.
“Mary,” a voice called out, sharp as ever, “what is that thing?”
It was Josh, my neighbor and self-appointed neighborhood watchman. His arms were crossed, his expression stern.
“It’s a garden gnome,” I replied, staying cheerful. “Isn’t he charming?”
“They’re bad luck,” he said flatly. “I read that somewhere.”
“Was that from a credible source,” I asked, “or just a post from some online lawn-care forum?”
Josh didn’t budge. “You’ll see.”
I gave the gnome’s hat a gentle pat. “Well, if bad luck shows up, maybe it’ll help pull weeds.”
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