Mint -- Invasion

Theo laughs when you pick up the mint. Actually laughs -- a short bark that echoes off the glass panels overhead. He takes the terracotta pot from your hands and holds it up like evidence.

"You see this pot?" he says. "This is the only thing between this plant and total war."

The mint looks innocent enough. Square stems, serrated leaves with that crinkled texture, bright green and vigorous. A pleasant, clean smell rises from it. Friendly. Approachable. The kind of plant you'd put on a kitchen windowsill.

"I made the mistake once," Theo says, setting it down on the herb table among the other terracotta pots, "of planting mint directly in a garden bed. Just a little sprig. A single cutting." He pulls his apron tight and leans against the table. "Within two months it had runners under every neighboring pot. Under the gravel path. Into the raised bed six feet away. It sent roots through a crack in a concrete wall to reach the bed on the other side."

He picks a leaf and hands it to you. You rub it between your fingers. Cool, sharp, relentless -- the smell won't leave your skin for hours and you know it.

"Most people look at something this aggressive and their first instinct is to contain it. Control it. Apologize for it." Theo crosses his arms. "But here's the thing about mint -- it's not broken. It's not misbehaving. This is exactly what it's designed to do. Dominate."

He watches your face. "You've got something like that in you. An idea, a drive, a project -- something that wants to spread into every corner. And you've been keeping it in a pot because someone told you it was too much." He taps the rim. "So the question is: do you control it, or do you let it run?"

He grins. "Both are valid. But you should at least know what you're holding back."

---

Mint -- $0.99

You have something that wants to take over everything. Stop apologizing for it. Contain it or unleash it -- but stop pretending it isn't there.