Measured Already

The first meeting happened at the mailbox.

Brandon Prescott came over with one hand in a pocket and the other on a coffee cup, like he was walking through a lobby. Kayla stood behind him in white jeans, phone up, filming the porch.

“Mike, right?” Brandon said. “Brandon. We’re next door now. Looking forward to a clean, elevated street.”

Mike looked at the cup, then the lawn, then the man’s shoes. “Welcome.”

Brandon smiled the way men do when they want to sound friendly for the record. “We’re doing a lot of work. Cleaning things up. Making sure the property presents well.”

Kate folded her arms. “That must be exhausting.”

Kayla laughed too fast. “It’s exciting. We love a good transformation.”

Brandon glanced past Mike to the driveway, the trailer, the stacks of pavers by the garage. “You run a paving business?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to know. Just helps everyone keep things tidy.”

Mike nodded once. The words had a thin edge under them, like paint over rust.

Brandon looked at the edge of Mike’s drive, then back at him. “We’ll be in touch about shared access.”

Mike waited, but Brandon was already turning away.

At the mailbox, Kate let out a breath. “Elevate and clean. That’s a sentence people say when they want something else.”

Mike watched the Prescotts’ porch light glow in the early dark.

They were looking at his driveway.

And they were measuring it already.

By Friday, Mike had a better view of the Prescotts’ driveway than of his own supper. Their crew came and went in white vans, stacked lumber, and a dumpster with their name stenciled on the side. A week later the house had the same shape, but the windows looked sharper, the lawn edged to a line so straight it seemed drawn with a knife.