“Hey …”
He stops and turns and sees that it is Bob, his neighbor, calling out.
“How’s it going?” Bob says.
“Hello, Bob.” He grips his briefcase in his hand. This was no way to start a Monday morning.
“Man, the smell …” he says.
“Sorry, Bob, raccoons got into the garbage again, and I’ve been lazy about picking it up. I’ll do it now.”
“It smells like something died, man.” Bob speaks politely, but he is angry, the veins in his neck say so.
Maybe something did. He isn’t sure if he’s said it aloud. They stand there staring at each other for a long moment.
He knows how to stop the complaints. And he might one day. Until then Bob should count himself among the lucky. He doesn’t even know how lucky.
“Get some bungee cords for your damned cans or something.”
“Will do, Bob. I’ll take care of it right away.”
He stands there watching as Bob nods his thanks, walks back to his driveway, climbs in his car, and drives away.