That night, he filled it back in with soil from the garden and muttered to himself that it wouldn’t happen again. It did. The next evening, another driver used his driveway to turn around. The heavy tires tore through the edge of his flower bed.
Walter stormed outside, fists clenched, but the truck had already pulled away. All it left behind was the smell of exhaust and a splatter of mud on his fence. Soon, it was clear the damage wasn’t accidental. One night, just after sundown, a cement truck idled at the edge of the construction lot, headlights pointed directly at his front windows.