“That cedar post is twenty-four inches inside my recorded property line,” I said.

“It’s a small misunderstanding,” Arthur said, stepping toward the storm drain grate.

“We don’t get into formal board disputes over a few inches.”

I pointed down at the red survey notch cut into the concrete curb next to his left shoe.

“The township surveyor carved that notch six years back,” I said.

“The line goes straight from that mark to my patio.”

Arthur glanced at the mark in the concrete for a split second before turning his body away from it.