everything changed.
Denise never admitted doing anything, but strange little incidents started happening.
My trash cans began falling over on collection day.
Almost every Thursday, I would place them neatly at the curb before leaving for work.
By the time I came home, at least one would be lying on its side.
Sometimes garbage was scattered across the street.
Sometimes the lid ended up underneath a parked car.
Once, I found coffee grounds all over my driveway.
I started tying my trash bags more securely.
It didn’t help.
Then my garden hose disappeared.
I searched everywhere.
The garage.
Behind the shed.
Around the side of the house.
For a moment, I even wondered if I had loaned it to someone and forgotten.
A week later, the hose mysteriously reappeared beside the outdoor faucet.
Cut cleanly in half.
I stood there holding both pieces and staring at Denise’s
