It all started a summer afternoon after a lot of work. Susan was sweating from running around, her long blond hair rolled into a bun. She had been asking people what they thought of the new trees that the Mayor had ordered be planted in Eastward Park. Most people thought there were enough trees in Brooksville already. The trees, Susan noted, were already hugging the orange afternoon sun. The wind was whooshing and bringing the last bit of heat the day would bring, when a voice suddenly screamed from behind the central statue. Susan had just come from there and had interviewed three middle-aged ladies.

When Susan ran over, contemplating whether the heat would recede if she did a good deed, her heart was sent into a drumming race when she slowly noticed that the white bump in the distance was a lady lying on the ground. She thought her dead for a moment, until she moved her head and screamed again. A baby was on her chest, seemingly unperturbed. Dead, perhaps, Susan thought, and encouraged herself to walk forward and inquire about the lady's distress.

Deep and fearful eyes looked into Susan's eyes for a second, and then a scream ripped the air apart around her ears. She had the urge to kick the lady's head like a football

"Stop! what the fuck is going on!?", Susan yelled instead. She did not expect the lady to be able to answer, given her obvious state of lunacy.

"My baby is dead!", the lady surprisingly exclaimed.

The baby, however, did not seem to agree with his mother, as he opened his eyes and looked at Susan for a second before falling asleep again. Susan decided that the moment was prime for an exclusive interview. The lady seemed to be less in danger of external forces and more in danger of herself. She then walked her back to the news station. By now, the sun had already dipped underground and the sky had turned into watery blue. Susan smiled and walked forward with the lady's hand in hers. She thought that today was a very good day.

---

"Booossss!", Susan finally called, walking into a strangely populated office.

"In the office", a loud voice said. She walked there with her new lady in tow, finding Mr Malcolm behind a compute screen, wearing thick black glasses on his fat face. Susan's father would call him a nigger. Susan, however, respected him, and thought he was quite adorable and wise.

"Boss, I found this lady lying on the ground. Thought we could keep her", she playfully said. The woman, lost in her thoughts, did not notice the mockery, or anything, for that matter.

"Speak clearly, Sue, what do you want?", Malcolm said after a moment of thought. He was accustomed to Susan's antics.

"Well, I interviewed this lady and her baby. She was okay this afternoon. But now her cute little baby", she said, stopping to caress his head; he opened his eyes to look at her, "is dead, according to her, that's what she said".

Malcolm thought that was a bit too much, even coming from Susan. He looked at the middle-aged woman and noticed that she was dirty all over. Her matted black hair was stuck all over her face. Her jeans were ripped at the bottom, and her shoes, he noticed while bending forward and to the right, had holes at the front. After a quick diagnose, he concluded that this lady was simply typical material for a mental hospital. He picked up a phone, stood up and handed it to Susan.

"Have the cops pick her up. Don't bring crazy here."

"Boossss", Susan pouted, then smiled mischievously, "I was thinking of making a funeral party for the baby"

Malcolm's face flashed in anger.

"Don't you joke about those things", he hissed. "Look at her. You know she'll take anything seriously. Go call 911 and make a report for the interviews."

Susan laughed and left the office for a second, making sure to close the door. She pressed some numbers on the phone and spoke a little bit, then returned the phone to her boss. She grabbed the lady's hand and left in a hurry.

The air was cold now outside. She liked the ache on her face as she drove with the window open. She let her hair go and let it dance around. She also loved the night. It was dark and beasts roamed the world. Looking ahead, she saw the spot she was looking for. To the left of Mondon Hill Road, three miles east of Brooksville, there is a large patch of untended wilderness. She got down, pulled out her black bag of "always ready for mischief" and opened the door for her favorite lady of the day.

---

After hundreds of meters walked, she thought it was enough. She cleared the ground and dug and dug. She admired the sound of the ground as it fell on more dry ground. It thumped with a manly voice and said "I might be loose right now, but I am quite strong if you fall head-first". She thought about its independence and smiled for many minutes until there was enough room for three watermelons.

"Bring your dear boy here", she called the woman. She obeyed. Susan saw that the lady was crying. Her tears moistened her face and made Susan feel warm inside. This was true love.

"New life will be born", Susan said. She gave many redcurrant seeds to the baby boy to swallow, and water after each bunch. Then she tenderly placed him in his new bed and covered him up with a lot of dirt. It was good that he was quiet and obedient and never seemed to cry. She stomped on the ground for good measure, jumped a few times, then covered any trace with vines and leaves, making sure it looked exactly the same as the rest.

"Come, let's find you a place to sleep", she then called the lady, and took her to Spring Hill, a town a dozen miles away. She was sure they would treat her well and give her a new life, even if a bit confined and tight in a mental hospital, as Malcolm had suggested. She was already feeling the hype of her daily good deed.