Intentions

He walked back to his car, drove to the local hardware store, and bought three dozen rosebushes and a shovel.

The old iron gate of the Hawthorne estate hadn’t creaked in decades, but today it groaned under Arthur’s hand. He was seventy-five now, his knuckles like gnarled cedar roots, clutching a small, leather-bound ledger. INTENTIONS

, like "the road to hell is paved with good intentions." He walked back to his car, drove to