That’s when he set up a hidden camera in a tree facing my porch. When the lock was sabotaged a third time, we checked the footage. I was stunned to see not a vandal, but a little girl in a bright yellow raincoat.
She tiptoed up to my door, nervously looked around, pushed something into the keyhole, and ran.
Confused more than angry, I decided to wait for her the following afternoon. I sat on my porch with a book, pretending not to notice when she approached again. When I gently called out, she froze. After reassuring her I wasn’t mad, I asked why she kept doing it.
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