There were ten cars now. Eli stood frozen at the edge of his field. He didn’t even sip his coffee. His shoulders were rigid, jaw clenched. A part of him wanted to run up to each driver and demand answers, but what good would it do?
Still, he had to try something. He crossed the road to SilverMart, the morning sun already heating the pavement. Inside, it was a swirl of noise and confusion—blaring announcements, squeaking carts, and a child wailing in aisle four. He waited at the front counter until someone directed him to the store manager.
The manager was a man in his thirties, clean-shaven and wearing a name tag that read Jeff – Store Manager. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Good morning,” Jeff said, trying to smile. “What can I do for you?”
Eli didn’t waste time. “I own the land right across the road—where your customers have been parking. That’s private farmland, not overflow.” Jeff’s expression flickered. “Ah. Yes. We’ve had… a few incidents reported.”