Dan put his shoulder against the griminess of the garage door and lifted. With a plaintive whine the door opened for the first time in months. The wan light of the forty-five watt bulb was consumed in the tide of afternoon sunlight. Dust, spiderwebs and rat droppings created their own miniature terrain over the maze of card board boxes and opaque plastic bins.

Across the street, Old Man Werner stood on his porch, stiffly holding the thick white railing and peering back and forth across the sky. Abruptly, he looked straight at Dan. “Do you hear that?”

Cocking his head, Dan listened. Birds chirped atop telephone poles. Traffic in the distance rumbled by on the nearby highway. He shrugged and spread his hands. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Werner.”

“I heard a strange noise up there.” Old Man Werner nodded to the sky. “I think the government’s watching us.”

Dan searched the sky finding nothing except a lone fluffy cloud. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s a spy plane. You wouldn’t see anything. Fascists.”