I stood there holding both pieces and staring at Denise's house.
Her blinds were closed.
I wanted to march over there.
I didn't.
That became the pattern.
Something happened.
I suspected Denise.
I had no proof.
She seemed to understand that better than anyone.
Whenever we crossed paths, she smiled.
Not warmly.
It was the kind of smile that made me feel as if we were sharing a joke I hadn't agreed to participate in.
I considered installing cameras.
I kept putting it off.
Part of me thought I was becoming paranoid. Another part hated the idea of spending money because of a petty feud with a neighbor.
Then, two weeks ago, I woke up to find my car completely repainted.
For several seconds, my brain refused to understand what I was looking at.
I stood in my doorway holding my keys.
My car was pink.
Not a tasteful pink.
Not some professional metallic finish.
Bright pink paint covered practically everything.
It wasn't keyed or egged; it had been fully repainted, hood to trunk, in pink paint, including the windows, the mirrors, and even the headlights, like someone had spent hours out there with rollers in the middle of the night.
I walked down the driveway in disbelief.
There were streaks where the paint had dried unevenly.
Thick drops had hardened along the doors.
The windshield was almost completely covered.
I touched one corner of the hood and pulled my hand back.
"What the hell?"
I said it quietly because I still couldn't process it.
Then I looked toward Denise's house.
Her curtains were shut.
My stomach twisted.
The hose had been annoying.
The trash cans had been childish.
This was different.
Someone had deliberately ruined my car.
I called the police, filed a report, and told them exactly who I suspected.
Without a witness or camera footage, there was nothing they could actually do.
One of the officers walked around the car and photographed the damage.
"Any cameras nearby?" he asked.
"No."
"Did anyone see anything?"
"Not that I know of."
"Do you have evidence connecting your neighbor to this?"
I looked toward Denise's house.
