Sweet and Sour

I waded through the beer bottle-strewn snow to the front of the house to get my mail just now and found some familiar white trash smoking on the porch.

To my amazement, she smiled at me.

Oh, no. Too late for that. I scowled in reply and before I knew it, it just slipped out: "Shouldn't you be in there packing?"

I snatched the contents of my box and left her standing, mouth agape, cigarette forgotten. I know I was asking too much before, rudely expecting her to be considerate of her fellow tenants. But at this point, smiling at me is just not allowed. I don't care if it was a sneer or an expression of utmost chagrin.

She better make as much noise moving out as she did moving in.