Three days after moving into our dream home, our neighbors called the authorities over our kids playing—six months later, my son was afraid to laugh in his own backyard

aesthetic.’”

“Emily, another one?”

I laughed, but the laugh came out sharp and thin.

“That’s insane. Who complained?”

“Take a wild guess.”

The next letter was about bubbles drifting into her yard.

Then our basketball hoop was too tall.

Then my son’s seventh birthday party violated some obscure noise ordinance, even though we’d continue reading …