“Did you break my car?” I freeze in place at the sound of a woman’s voice coming from behind me. My current position couldn’t look more suspicious. “I think I might have,” I say, not moving. My head is pounding now, but I make myself go on. “I nudged your tire with my foot and the whole bumper just—” But I break off when the woman behind me starts to laugh. “I’m just kidding,” she says, her voice full of amusement. “It falls off all the time. I have some super glue in my trunk.” Then she laughs again.
