[s2e42] Bin Night -

A figure in a dark hoodie was hovering over Miller’s perfectly aligned bins. They weren't taking trash out; they were putting something in. In the unspoken code of the cul-de-sac, "bin-sharing" without permission was a declaration of war.

Arthur looked at the trophy. It was a gaudy, gold-plated monstrosity of a winged victory. Then he looked at his own bin—the one with the stubborn pizza box.

The glass bottles clinked with every step, sounding like a mobile bar.