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One night, I couldn’t sleep.
Even my pills weren’t helping.
Sometime around midnight, I noticed a faint humming coming through the open bedroom window.
It was the kind of sound you would never notice during the day.
I pulled the blinds aside.
At first, I thought I was imagining what I saw.
Then my eyes traced the thick black cable.
Monica’s white Tesla was parked unusually close to our shared property line.
The cable stretched from her car directly to the outdoor outlet on my garage.
I put on my robe and slippers and stepped outside.
My heart was pounding harder than it had in months.
Monica was casually leaning against the car, scrolling through her phone.
“Monica,” I said. “What exactly are you doing?”
She looked up without even a trace of embarrassment.
“Charging my car. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that cable is plugged into MY house.”
She rolled her eyes and tucked the phone into her back pocket.
“Eleanor, come on. You live alone. How much electricity could you possibly need?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“It kind of is, though.”
And then she said something that made the anger burning inside me even hotter.
