It was sitting in a lawn chair holding a clipboard.

Luis insisted it was coincidental.

Nobody believed him.

Priya stayed.

She kept filing records requests until Karen began charging copying fees so high that even Priya eventually slowed down.

Rachel and I lasted another three years.

We told ourselves it was because of school.

Mortgage rates.

Moving expenses.

Because Karen couldn't take everything if we refused to let her.

Then one October evening, Noah came home from school with a flyer.

A friend from another neighborhood had invited him trick-or-treating there.

He looked at us.

“Can we do real Halloween this year?”

Real Halloween.

Rachel looked across the kitchen at me.

We both knew.

We listed the house the following spring.

The Last Day

Karen sent a pre-sale compliance checklist.

Twenty-three items.

Mailbox numbers.

Fence stain.

Mulch color.

A faint oil mark on the driveway.

An unapproved bird feeder.

Even a porch lantern she claimed leaned too rustic.

We fixed everything.

On our final day, I stood in the driveway while movers loaded the truck.

Karen walked past with her clipboard.

She stopped.

“Moving day.”

“Yes.”

“I hope your next community is a better fit.”

Rachel came outside carrying a box of dishes.

She looked at Karen.

“I hope one day you hear children laughing and don't mistake it for a threat.”

Karen's smile tightened.

“That sounds unnecessary.”