My neighbor let her dog use my lawn as a toilet every morning for six months and never cleaned up once — Kertati I stayed polite until she made one comment I couldn’t forget, and by the next morning I’d taught her a lesson without raising my voice once.

My alarm went off at 7:15.

Tom and the children were still asleep.

I put on my gardening clothes.

Not pajamas.

Not a robe.

My actual yard-work clothes.

That was intentional.

Then I went into the garage.

I collected the supplies I had prepared the night before.

And I stepped outside.

Late October mornings have a particular coldness.

The street was quiet.

The houses still.

My breath appeared in little clouds as I walked across the lawn.

Over the previous week, I had been paying closer attention to Winston’s visits.

I collected every bit of evidence he had left behind.

Carefully.

Neatly.

Then I walked across the driveway toward Marguerite’s house.

And returned it.

I didn’t throw anything.

I didn’t smear anything.

I didn’t damage her property.

I simply placed one small bagged deposit in the center of each decorative stone along her front walkway.

Six stones.

Six reminders.

One for every month I had spent cleaning up after her dog.

There was no note.

No accusation.

No explanation.

Nothing linking it to me except the obvious.

She would know.

I would know she knew.

And she would know that I knew she knew.

That was enough.