I took one photo.
Then I made one call.
The parking enforcement officer arrived before Denise did.
She came outside fully dressed this time.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The officer recognized her.
I could tell from his face.
“Morning, madam.”
“This is persecution.”
“No.”
He looked down at his handheld device.
“This appears to be the same access point involved in the previous complaint.”
Denise glared at me.
“I was inside for five minutes.”
I said nothing.
The officer asked, “Why did you park here after already receiving a penalty for obstructing this driveway?”
Denise opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
That was the moment.
Not the first Monday.
The second one.
The moment she finally realized the problem was no longer whether I had enough energy to confront her.
There was now a process.
Evidence.
Dates.
Consequences.
She could roll her eyes at me.
She could not roll her eyes at paperwork.
