Confronted Stories

I noticed the bicycle leaning against the fence by the gate when I walked up the driveway. It looked like Jordan’s, the high school senior who cut our grass, and the front lawn was freshly mowed. My car broke down at the gas station and was now on the back of the tow truck, headed to the shop instead of the golf course. I carted my clubs home, deciding to walk as it was nice out and only a half-hour away. I set the clubs...