cars.
Yet for reasons I couldn’t understand, he kept parking his Mercedes on my front lawn.
The first time, I assumed he had visitors and needed somewhere temporary to park.
The second time, I politely asked him to move.
By the fifth time, deep tire marks were cutting across the grass I’d spent years maintaining.
One afternoon, I approached him.
“Richard, could you please stop parking here? You’re damaging my lawn.”
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He looked at the Mercedes and laughed.
“Relax, Robert.
