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our lives, most of the weeds involve things like regret, anger, and jealousy. The worst weed in our minds is the desire for revenge. That is the most harmful weed.  It poisons everything it touches.”
    The analogy made sense to Tanan. “What do we do with all of those things, Soama?”
    “The same thing we do with the weeds you’re pulling from the garden right now,” he replied.  “How much time do you spend thinking about the weeds we threw in the compost pile yesterday?”
    “None,” said Tanan.
    “Exactly,” said Soama. “We have to be diligent when it comes to keeping our garden free of weeds.  But we don’t worry about the weeds we pulled yesterday or the weeds we will have to pull tomorrow.”
    Tanan sat back on his heels. “So, we spend so much time pulling weeds because it reminds us to keep the weeds out of the garden of our life.”
    “No,” said Soama. “We spend so much time pulling weeds because the garden has a lot of weeds.”
    Tanan sighed heavily and went back to pulling weeds

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Kirkik returned to Port Billen, arriving late in the evening.  He went straight to the Constable’s station, which was unlocked.  That would change when he took over.  He dropped his backpack on the chair in front of the Constable’s desk and walked into the empty jail cell.
    There was a shelf at the foot of the cot stacked with neatly folded bedding.  He pulled down a thick wool blanket and threw it on the bed, then kicked off his boots and the thick leather belt that his sword was attached to. 
    Kirkik laid the sword on the bed next to the wall and stretched out next to it, pulling the blanket over himself. He was asleep almost instantly.
    •        •        •
    The next morning, he awoke to the sound of Jelak sweeping the floor. “Good Morning,” said the old Constable, cheerfully.
    Kirkik sat up and rubbed his face. He slipped his feet into his boots and laced them up while Jelak went around the room dusting and polishing everything in the office.
    When Jelak had finished his morning cleaning ritual he sat behind the desk and looked back at Kirkik.  “What brings you back to Port Billen?” he asked.
    “I’ve come to relieve you, Jelak.”
    Jelak nodded once. “I suppose I’ve been at it long enough,” he said.
    “You should have retired twenty years ago,” said Kirkik with a slight edge of irritation in his voice.
    “Truer words have never been spoken,” replied Jelak, cheerfully. He stood up from the desk. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll buy you breakfast.  You should never fire a man on an empty stomach.”
    •        •        •
    The two men walked down the hill to the Rusty Hook.  It was still early, but the sky was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue over the water.  There were groups of fishermen streaming out of the Hook, heading down to the docks to begin another day’s work.  Jelak greeted the men by name that they passed.
    They entered the tavern and sat at a table right by the door.  Jelak ordered fish and eggs for both of them, the standard breakfast at the Hook.
    Jelak fixed serious eyes on the younger man sitting across from him. “Son,” he said, “I want you to know something about this village before you take over as Constable. The people that live in Port Billen are good folks. There isn’t any real crime. Not because of anything I’ve done, but because people here look out for one another.  As long as you don’t come in and rock the boat, it’ll stay that way.  Keep that in mind and you’ll do fine.”
    Their food arrived.  Jelak smiled and thanked the young girl as she sat a plate in front of each man.
    Jelak looked at Kirkik over the plates of food. “Have you got a place to stay yet, Constable?”
    “No,” said Kirkik, “I haven’t made any arrangements.”
    Jelak looked around the room and spotted Pemmy, the middle aged woman who owned the Rusty Hook, standing and talking with a table full