First thing Saturday morning, I rent a U-Haul truck and back it up onto the lawn in front of Rob’s townhouse. He stands bleary-eyed on the stoop, a cup of joe in one hand, the other waving me to keep coming. I take turns watching him in the sideview mirror and leaning out the driver’s side window, hoping I don’t run over my stuff, which he helped me haul outside earlier, before the U-Haul place opened.
Then I hear him holler, “Stop, stop!” A second later, the truck shudders as the back bumper crunches into something.
With a wince, I pull up the handbrake and throw the truck into park. Climbing out of the cab, I ask, “What’d I hit?”
“My damn railing.” Rob sips his hot coffee as he stares at where the truck is pushed up against the other end of the stoop.
Before I can climb into the truc
