At twilight, Dex climbed the old tree and settled on the branch that gave him the best view of the paint-spattered wall and door. Those hooligans were going to get it this time, he thought, as he carefully trimmed a couple of small, leafy twigs that were impairing his view. When they come back tonight to finish that graffiti, I’ll make them regret the whole damned idea. At first, he hefted his little can of pepper spray with grim satisfaction over his plan, but as the evening grew darker and colder, his resolve began to waver. What if there were too many of them, if he lost the advantage, if they overpowered him?
Before the last glowing rim of day had faded from the sky Dex was back at home, still muttering about the reckoning those stupid kids needed, that one day he would surely give them.