Mangoes

She lived in a mango tree.  She awoke to their sweet fragrance every morning, but the aroma turned her stomach.  It had taken six months to have her unconventional home built, moving in unnoticed during the night.  Her neighbors had come by to introduce themselves, yelling up at her window from the foot of the tree.  Including him.  With her.  She’d ignored them.  She was a hermit. A neighborhood nuisance.  An unseen weirdo.  Parents probably warned their kids not to walk near her house.  Or tree.  Not that any of that mattered to her.

She peeked through the window shrouded by leaves with her long-lens binoculars and she watched.  Him and his perfect little family, their homely-looking little girls, they took after her obviously, cooking dinner together, playing on the beach that was also their backyard.  One day she’d reclaim the life that had rightly been hers.  Until then, she would watch.

In response to Mondays Finish the Story Challenge