The sun was going down, casting orange shadows across the fields. “What’d Rick say?” “That the law’s not going to help unless you can really afford it.” She didn’t answer. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and a robin hopping across the porch rail.
By the following weekend, it wasn’t just a few cars—it was a crowd. Eli stood at the edge of the field, surveying what looked like a makeshift overflow parking lot. At least twenty cars, most of them with their tires sunk halfway into the mud, their noses pointing toward the supermarket like faithful dogs waiting for their owners.