He walks inside. The door closes with a click so controlled and deliberate it's louder than any slam.
I stand in my yard, coated in green dust, surrounded by hostile plants, holding the shredded remains of a forty-pound bag of magical fertilizer.
"That went well," I tell the sunflowers.
They refuse to come out of the truck.
The hammering wakesme at 6:47 a.m.
Three sharp strikes. Pause. Three more. The rhythm of someone who treats even knocking on wood as a task requiring precision.
I roll off the air mattress, because my bed frame is still in pieces in the living room, and stumble to the front door in my pajamas. Frog-print shorts. An oversized t-shirt that says BLOOM WHERE YOU'RE PLANTED with a screen-printed flower giving a thumbs up.
I open the door.
No one's there.
But nailed to the wood, dead center, aligned with a level's accuracy, sits a bright pink sheet of paper. Not just pink. Neon. Aggressively, violently, optically offensive pink. The kind of pink that doesn't exist in nature because nature has taste.
CEDARBROOK LANE HOMEOWNERS ASSOCIATION
OFFICIAL CITATION
Violation: Hazardous Material Dispersal (Section 6, Paragraph 3, Subsection D)
Description: Uncontrolled release of enchanted agricultural compound across property lines, resulting in unauthorized botanical growth on neighboring walkway infrastructure. Dragon compost detected.
Resident: Junia Erikkson, 4712 Cedarbrook Lane
Issued by: Flynn Danger, Compliance Chair
Fine: $75.00. Payable within 7 days. Cash, check, or exact change only.
At the bottom, in precise handwriting:
The daisy is still growing. It has reached four inches. This is unacceptable.
I yank the nail out of my door. It leaves a perfect, tiny hole.
Across the fence, the sound of edging shears starts up with mechanical regularity.
CHAPTER 2
FLYNN
The nail gun sits exactly where it belongs. Third hook from the left in the garage pegboard, barrel pointed down, safety engaged. I return it to its position, step back, and confirm the alignment against the grid marks I painted on the pegboard 11 years ago.
Perfect.
The citation is perfect too. I printed it on the color laser at 5:30 a.m. because the first draft, completed at 4:15 a.m. during what should have been my sleeping hours, had a margin error of two millimeters on the left side. Unacceptable. The second draft corrected the margin but introduced a font inconsistency in the subsection header. Also unacceptable. The third draft is flawless.
The fine amount took consideration. Seventy-five dollars communicates severity without cruelty. Fifty says slap on the wrist. A hundred says vendetta. Seventy-five says I am a reasonable orc who has been unreasonably wronged.
Dragon compost. On my walkway. Growing things in my concrete.
I bring the mower from its bay. A Greenfield GX-9 rotary with a 22-inch cut deck, self-sharpening blades, and a mulching attachment I've never once used because mulching is justlittering with extra steps. I run my thumb across the blade edge. Still factory-sharp, because I maintain a weekly honing schedule.
The lawn doesn't need mowing. I mowed it Tuesday. Today is Thursday. The grass is at exactly two and three-quarter inches, which is within acceptable range, but my blood is hot and my hands need occupation, so.
