Richard complained throughout the preparations.
Meanwhile, neighbors gathered along the opposite sidewalk, keeping behind the operator’s designated safety area.
Some whispered about my wall.
Others laughed at Richard.
I heard one woman say, “Maybe he’ll finally learn to park in his own driveway.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
Fletcher stood beside my porch steps, watching the crew.
“You should tell them to stop,” he said quietly.
“Richard hired them. It’s his decision.”
“You built the wall.”
“Because he kept parking on my lawn.”
Fletcher didn’t argue. He looked toward the house.
“I hope this ends the way you think it will.”
The Mercedes slowly rose from the grass.
First, the tires cleared the ground.
Then the entire vehicle hung suspended, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.
Richard watched anxiously.
I folded my arms, enjoying every second.
Then something shifted.
The car rotated slightly, sending the suspended load into unexpected motion.
Orson immediately halted the lift.
