HOA KAREN KEPT DRIVING CEMENT TRUCKS ACROSS MY LITTLE BRIDGE, SO I SET A TRAP THEY NEVER SAW COMING….
That night, I stood alone on the center of the wooden bridge and listened. The creek talked in the steady, familiar syllables it always uses. It bumped against smooth river stones, tapped against submerged pine roots, and flattened itself against my wooden pilings. I ran the beam of a heavy flashlight along the underside of…
