All I wanted was a quiet place where my daughter and I could finally feel at home. Instead, after moving in, I found myself facing someone determined to make our lives miserable.
The moving truck pulled away just after 2 p.m. I stood in the driveway with a cardboard box balanced on my hip, staring up at the little house that was suddenly mine.
The paint was peeling in soft curls along the siding. The porch sagged on the left side as if it were leaning in to hear a secret. It wasn’t much, but it was ours.
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