Living peacefully on Maple Street, I had an agreement with my old neighbors, Jim and Susan, about placing a fence between our yards—no survey, just a handshake. I built the fence with my own money, and everything was fine until they moved out and Kayla, a fancy realtor from the city, moved in.

Six months later, Kayla had a survey done and claimed my fence was nine inches over her property. She demanded I move it or pay her for the land. Despite our old agreement, I had no proof, so I painfully took the fence down to avoid legal trouble.

But soon, karma paid her a visit. Without the fence, her dog Duke caused chaos—destroying furniture, escaping through her weak bamboo fence, and even getting her purse stolen during a garage sale gone wrong. She begged me to rebuild it, offering to pay, but I declined.

Eventually, her nightmare became mine, too. Tired of the stress, I sold my house and moved to a peaceful new neighborhood—dog, old fence panels, and all. I found love, calm, and laughter again. As for Kayla? Well, she learned that karma doesn’t need a fence to find its way.