That night, he barely touched his dinner. His stomach churned. What if she was popular? What if the footage made him look cruel? He hadn’t laid a finger on anyone, hadn’t yelled, hadn’t threatened—but online, truth often bent to outrage.
He paced the porch for over an hour, Taffy trailing behind him. Every creak of the wooden boards under his boots sounded like trouble. Eventually, he went to bed, but sleep didn’t come easy. His thoughts swirled—court dates, fines, some headline accusing him of “spraying innocent tourists.”