At 3 A.M., My Brother Dragged Me Out of My Bedroom While Dad Laughed—He Had No Idea What the Smoke Detector Had Recorded
A breeze moved through the trees beside the courthouse.
My Buick sat in the parking lot.
Its cracked mirror reflected part of the building.
I opened the driver’s door.
Placed the binder on the passenger seat.
Then stopped.
For the first time in months, I had an official boundary protecting my new address.
The evidence had been preserved.
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