On an Oak Creek Street, a Retired Navy SEAL Took Off His Flannel Shirt

I didn’t reach for it.

“What is it, Arthur?”

“My formal resignation as HOA president,” he said.

He nudged his glasses up by the bridge, his fingers shaky.

“It takes effect right away.

The rest of the board gets their copies in tomorrow’s mail.”

“You don’t have to leave the neighborhood,” I said.

“I signed that temporary access restriction order when Harry brought it over to my house,” Arthur said.