I was bone-tired, the kind of tired where you can barely remember if you’ve brushed your teeth or fed the dog.

My days had become a blur since the twins were born.

Don’t get me wrong, Lily and Lucas were my adorable darlings, but wrangling two newborns mostly by myself was a Herculean task. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Halloween was just around the corner and the neighborhood buzzed with excitement, but not me.

I could hardly muster the energy to decorate, let alone keep up with the suburban festivities.

Then there was Brad.

The man took Halloween so seriously that you’d think his life depended on it. Every year, he turned his house into a haunted carnival complete with gravestones, dioramas of skeletons, huge jack-o’-lanterns, the works.

And the smug look on his face every time someone complimented him? Please.

His spectacle enamored the entire block. But me? I was too busy trying to keep my eyes open to care about Brad’s ridiculous haunted house.

It was a typical October morning when everything started to unravel.

I shuffled outside with Lily on one hip and Lucas cradled in my arm. I blinked at the sight before me. Somebody had egged my car! Broken bits of shell were stuck in the semi-congealed goo, which was dripping down the windshield like some twisted breakfast special.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, staring at the mess.

I had parked in front of Brad’s house the night before. It’s not like I had much choice. The twins’ stroller was impossible to push all the way from down the street, so I’d parked close to our door.

At first, I thought it had to be a prank. But when I noticed the egg splatters reached all the way to Brad’s front porch, my suspicion turned into certainty.

This had Brad written all over it.

Brad, with his grandiose Halloween display, had no claim to the curb but it didn’t matter to him. The man was as territorial as a wolf during the Halloween season.

I marched over to his house, barely able to contain the rage bubbling up inside me. I banged on his door, harder than I probably needed to, but I didn’t care. I was done playing nice.

“What?” Brad opened it, looking more smug than usual. He crossed his arms over his chest, and I swear, the arrogance just radiated off him.

His house was already in full Halloween mode. Fake cobwebs hung from the gutters, a plastic skeleton waved at me from the porch, and there was a witch lazing in one of the Adirondack chairs… the whole over-the-top mess.

I wasted no time. “Did you see who egged my car?”

Brad didn’t even blink.

“I did it,” he said, as if he was telling me the time of day. “Your car’s blocking the view of my decorations.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You egged my car because it was parked in front of your house? You didn’t even ask me to move it, you just ruined it?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “How can people appreciate my display if they can’t see it from the road?”

I blinked. For a second, I thought I might have misheard him. “Are you for real?”

He had the audacity to shrug.

“I’m the Halloween King! People come from all over to see this display, Genevieve. I’m just asking for a little cooperation. You’re always parked there. It’s inconsiderate and it’s ruining the vibe.”

Inconsiderate? I was balancing two babies, barely keeping it together, and this man, this egomaniac, was talking to me about inconveniences?

“Well, I’m sorry my life gets in the way of your spooky graveyard,” I snapped. “I’ve got twins, Brad. Newborn twins.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like we were discussing the weather. “Maybe you should park somewhere else.”

“I park there because it’s easier for me to reach my car when I’m carrying two babies and hauling a stroller!”

Brad shrugged. “That’s not my problem, Genevieve. Listen, you can park there again after Halloween is over, okay?”

I stood there, speechless, my anger boiling over. But exhaustion is funny like that — it snuffs out rage before it can burn too brightly.