"Acetaminophen before bandages. Bandages before cauterizing iron. It's logical."
She drops my wrist. But she doesn't step back. She's standing close enough that the smell of potting soil and something floral—jasmine, maybe, or honeysuckle—cuts through the morning air and lodges itself somewhere behind my sternum.
"Thank you," she says.
"I wasn't protecting you. I was protecting the sidewalk."
Her mouth twitches. "Sure, big guy."
I turn away before my face does something I can't control and walk to my porch, stepping carefully because the right boot is flapping like a dying fish. The morning is ruined. My boots are ruined. My lawn routine is forty-seven minutes behind schedule. I have blood on my shirt, and the grass is still pockmarked with flamingo peck marks from last night's debacle.
I sit on the porch steps and start cleaning the cuts with the emergency antiseptic wipes I keep in my left cargo pocket.
The mail carrier pulls up at 9:14 AM. Six minutes early. Sloppy.
She drops a single envelope in my box. Heavy cardstock. Cream colored. The HOA seal pressed into the flap in gold wax—a stylized oak tree wrapped in thorns, because Valerius has never met a symbol he couldn't make aggressive.
I open it with my pocketknife. Clean cut. No tearing.
Inside: a letter printed on linen paper so thick it could stop a small-caliber bullet.
Dear Valued Resident of Cedarbrook Estates,
It is my distinct pleasure to announce the 14th Annual Cedarbrook Estates Garden Competition, to be held one week from the date of this correspondence. As President of your Homeowners Association, I have taken the liberty of expanding the competition's stakes to better reflect our community's commitment to excellence.
The winner shall receive full immunity from HOA dues for a period of one calendar year, as well as permanent exemption from quarterly property inspections.
The entrant who receives the lowest score shall forfeit their property to the Cedarbrook Estates HOA trust, effective immediately.
I read that last line again.
And again.
I fold the letter. Set it on my knee. Pick it up. Read it a third time.
Forfeit their property.
My jaw tightens until something pops near my ear. The letter continues on the back.
Scoring will be conducted by an independent panel of three judges selected by the HOA board (myself). Categories include: aesthetic cohesion, botanical diversity, structural landscaping, and neighborhood harmony. All residents are automatically enrolled.
Sincerely and with warmth,
Valerius Thandril
President, Cedarbrook Estates HOA
"Excellence is not optional."
Automatically enrolled.
I flip the envelope over. A second sheet. A scoring rubric. Color-coded. The "neighborhood harmony" category is worth forty percent of the total score, and the description reads:Subjective assessment of the entrant's contribution to community spirit, as determined solely by the HOA President.
Forty percent.
Subjective.
Determined by Valerius.
