My dad’s place is next. I run past the alley between the pharmacy and his store, glancing briefly into it. Normally, my dad parks his truck there, but of course, he’s at the cabin. His truck isn’t there. A faded-blue sedan sits in that spot instead, and all I can think is how annoyed my dad gets when someone takes his space. If he were here, he’d have that old beater towed in a hot minute. And then, I hear the burglar alarm yelping futilely.
