The very next morning, as Eli made his way toward the southern field, something strange caught his eye: a small silver car, half-tucked into the edge of his property. The soil was damp from a light rain the night before, and the car’s tires had left deep impressions in the earth.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. The SilverMart parking lot had overflowed, and someone—maybe in a rush, maybe just lazy—had decided Eli’s field looked like a convenient alternative.