I’ve never driven down his street, but if I take Alta I can see his house to the left. There’s still a dumpster in front and a building permit posted in the yard. Whatever he’s doing has been going on for two years straight. His neighbors must hate him as much as I do. I do a U-turn a few streets later, take one final look, and then drive home, trying to forget this little moment of weakness, even when I know it won’t be the last.
