I remained where I was, and that decision—more than the strange red lump itself—shaped the entire morning. My first instinct had been to drop the hose and sprint back inside, pulse pounding at the sight of something glossy, uneven, and unnervingly vibrant crouched at the border of my garden bed. My mind leapt immediately to the worst possibilities: poison, infestation, some invasive organism poised to overrun the yard overnight.
Approaching it felt like stepping into a scene from a thriller. Each footfall tightened the anxiety twisting in my chest. But
