Denise’s entire driveway was streaked with the exact same bright pink paint that covered my car. Overnight rain had apparently tipped over two partially sealed paint cans she had left beside her garage, sending pink water across the concrete and down toward the curb. She was convinced I had somehow done it. I hadn’t touched her property. I simply stood there staring at the cans while she yelled.
Then I noticed something even better: one still had a hardware-store label attached.
...
