He walked up slowly, brushing his fingers over the crop stems nearby. Some were flattened. Others would recover. Still, irritation prickled in his chest. He stood nearby for a while, arms folded, until the driver—a young man in a hoodie—came out of the store, heading for the vehicle.
“Morning,” Eli called out. The man jumped slightly, surprised. “Oh. Hey.” “You know this is private land, right?” Eli said, not unkindly. “Not really a place to be parking.” The driver looked around as if noticing the field for the first time. “Oh. Sorry, man. I didn’t know. The store lot was full.”