Summer weighed the rubber mallet in one hand, eyeing the box of aluminium cans. She got down on her knees, planting one empty can upright on a scrap piece of board outside, and hefted the mallet again.
It wasn’t even that it had been a particularly bad day. She just felt — off. Angry, for no reason.
Smashy.
Hence, the empty cans. Lifting the mallet high, she brought it down squarely on the top of the can. It kinda … bounced. The rim crushed a little, sideways.
“Well /that’s/ interesting.” She smacked it again, a little off-centre. That strike produced a satisfying crunch and a flatter can. Tossing it back in the box, she set up another can.
Orchid Holmes heard the soft crunch of metal behind one of the buildings in town. Curiously, she followed the sound and was surprised to see a girl smashing cans with a hammer. The girl seemed focused on the task at hand, so Orchid watched in silence until the need to know grew overwhelming. “What are you doing?”
“Making room in my recycle bin,” she said, tapping the top of the can with the hammer. “And,” lifting the hammer, “being,” bringing it down, “frustrated!” BANG. The can crumpled slightly sideways and skittered away. Summer glanced up at the other girl.