Richard rushed over. “Tyler! Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine!”
I checked him myself before turning to Richard. “Your son damaged my car.”
Ben screamed.
He laughed. “You’re upset about that junk?”
“It’s our only car. I need it for work.”
“Sounds like your problem, not mine.”
“You need to pay for the repairs.”
“I’m not buying you a new car because Tyler bumped an antique.”
Your son damaged my car.
“I’m asking for repairs.”
“Maybe stop living beyond your means.”
I took photographs and reached for my phone to report the collision.
Then a truck rounded the corner. The side advertised luxury furniture rentals.
Richard turned toward it, and his smile disappeared. For the first time since I’d met him, Richard looked at something expensive and seemed terrified.
Sounds like your problem, not mine.
The truck stopped outside Richard’s house.
“Richard? We’re here to collect the furniture,” the driver announced.
