At the door, Cheryl turned around.

“You think a piece of paper changes anything?” she said.

No one answered her.

The door swung closed on its hydraulic arm and clicked.

By Friday afternoon the county had posted its own paperwork.

I parked across the street from Whitfield Roofing at two o’clock.

The van’s ladder rack was empty, and the engine ticked as it cooled.

A code officer in a tan shirt stapled a red stop-work notice next to the office door.