KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Five sharp raps on the screen door made Chocky jump and spill coffee on his pink bathrobe. It was military knocking, like how his dad would knock on his bedroom door. It was knocking that made you hide your pot and Mad magazines.
He sort of expected someone official to show up eventually. Things had gotten weird in probate court and his place was now owned by Annie, or whoever ran that old senile widow's trust. He thought he had bought it from old man Perea and hadn't bothered with a title search. Now he was out a $15,000 down payment. The old man died and the family offered to pay him back but he knew they didn't have it.
He kept living there - building the sculpture and fixing up the cabins. It had been six months now. One of these days there would be a knock like that. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Taxi, the burro, was standing on the porch. Chocky wondered at once how the donkey had knocked like that and what he wanted. Then Rosa stepped into view.