I ran outside barefoot—and froze.

Mrs. Harlow, a woman from down the street, stood in front of Caleb’s house. Her arms were tense, her face tight with frustration.

“This is an eyesore!” she snapped.

Before anyone could react, she grabbed a metal bar from the ground and swung it hard.

The ramp cracked.

Caleb screamed from the porch.

Ethan stood frozen next to me.

Mrs. Harlow didn’t stop until the entire ramp collapsed.

“Fix your mess,” she said coldly, dropping the bar.

Then she walked away as if nothing had happened.

Silence settled over the street.

Caleb’s mother stood beside him as he sat at the top of the steps again.

Watching.