2) They damaged my motorcycle while I was at my wife’s funeral.
After the service, I found my beloved bike tipped over and defaced. The same neighbors who pretended to care stood around, many looking unsurprised. I saw Howard across the lot, smirking. Despite the damage, I rode home. I needed the road—the freedom, the noise, the memories. Later, Howard approached me at the reception. “Maybe it’s…
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