They bicker like a couple of old magpies, harping at each other over their back fence.
Myrtle fusses over her Corgi, Angus, eating the acorns that drop from Hester’s white oak tree, and Hester complains about the syrupy blooms from Myrtle’s ruby honeysuckle vines staining her white patio chairs a neon pink.
On cold days, they don their Woolrich duffle coats and headscarves, and continue their spat over hot cups of oolong.
More alike than different, they each say the other is a troublesome bitty. When in reality, they wouldn’t know what to do if they didn’t’ have one another.