I drop the can of paint, and it falls to the side and rolls under the back end of the car. With a hand on the top of the trunk, I brace, debating whether I need to make a run for it. A tall blonde hops off my porch, leaving the rocker she'd been sitting in wobbling from her sudden departure."I've got it. Thanks. I reach back into the trunk, curious about who the hell is chillin' on my porch, but not curious enough to ask her.She sticks her head in the trunk, disregarding what I said, and pulls out the second gallon of paint and one of the plastic bags. "Name's Katy. Hardware, huh? Did you see Mack?" The questions roll out of her with barely a breath."Um... yeah."Katy walks up to the porch, the paint swinging in her hand. "I brought your mail."I've been here less than twenty-four hours, how can I have mail? "Okay...""Larry, the mailman, is up there in years. He forgets what road he's on most of the time. As long as the numbers match, he crams it in the box," she carrie
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