Clark.
And that hurt more than finding a stranger would have.
Clark had lived next door for six years with his wife Denise and their two children.
He was in his mid-forties.
Good job.
New SUV.
Nice watch.
Annual vacations to Florida.
He wasn’t desperate.
Clark was simply cheap.
Not careful-with-money cheap.
The type of cheap that gradually becomes a personality.
I had learned that over the years.
He once borrowed my extension ladder.
Three months later, I had to ask for it back.
He looked irritated that I wanted my own property.
Then came my pressure washer.
My chainsaw.
Wheelbarrow.
Socket set.
Two sockets disappeared.
Ellen had always encouraged me not to fight about it.
“Let it go, Frank. It isn’t worth ruining peace between neighbors.”
So I let things go.
Even after she died.
Partly because keeping peace had been important to her.
But gas was different.
Clark
