The next morning his mailbox was torn off its post and lay face-down in the grass, the flag snapped off. Whoever had done it hadn’t bothered to hide the damage, just left it where anyone could see. Walter picked it up with two hands, set it back upright, and felt the slow, real annoyance settle in his chest.
When he called the county office to report the harassment, he was told to file a formal complaint online. “We need documented evidence,” the clerk said flatly. “Dates, times, photos. Without that, it’s your word against theirs.” He looked at his flip phone, at its smudged screen, and gave up halfway through trying to figure out how to email a picture.