A few nights before Halloween, I came home after a twelve-hour shift on my feet — charting, comforting, and running from patient to patient. It was past nine p.m., the sky pitch black, and my back aching from hours of lifting and bending. On top of that, my landlord’s maintenance truck was once again blocking my driveway. Sighing, I pulled into the only available spot — directly in front of Derek’s house. It wasn’t illegal. It wasn’t unusual. I’d parked there before. My kids were half-asleep, pumpkin-pajama-clad, and I was already carrying bags and one very heavy toddler. The thought of hauling everyone and everything further was unbearable. I assumed Derek would understand. I assumed he would let it slide.Continue reading…
