"Yes, installed last month. It's connected to my private panel."
"Well, that's wonderful," she replied sweetly, resting a hand on the SUV's hood like it was a prize thoroughbred. "Finally, someone in this neighborhood contributing to green infrastructure. We all need to do our part for the planet."
I blinked. Her words didn't land as gratitude. They landed as entitlement.
"This isn't public infrastructure," I said evenly. "It's my home charger, bought and paid for."
She tilted her head, the saccharine smile failing to reach her eyes. "Oh, come on. Your car wasn't even using it. Why let perfectly good energy go to waste? Think of it as community sharing."
My jaw tightened. Community sharing. It was theft, plain and simple.
"I need to charge my own car," I told her, my voice lower now. "I have an early meeting two hours away."
Cara sighed theatrically, as if I had asked her to surrender a kidney. "Fine."
She pressed her key fob, the charging handle clicking free. She yanked the cable loose and let it drop with a loud thud onto the concrete. Without another word, she climbed into her SUV and reversed out, leaving a faint black tire mark across the pavers I had scrubbed clean just that morning.
The driveway was mine again, but the violation lingered like a stain.
When I walked inside, Lena looked up from the kitchen island where she was scrolling on her tablet. "You're late," she said. "Everything okay?"
I hesitated, then forced a laugh. "Neighbor borrowed the charger mistakenly."
She raised an eyebrow. "Borrowed?"
"It won't happen again," I assured her, though even as I said it, I wasn't convinced.