I met my first neighbor when I was taking out boxes to the
trash.
She was young, perky and to top it all off a kindergarten
teacher.
Laura Frost.
“So, you’re the one who finally moved into the old Franklin
house.”
Her voice was one octave away from a bird’s chirp.
“Yep.” I knew my smile looked half assed, but I didn’t have
the energy to full on fake it.
She glanced towards Margo, who was standing in the kitchen
window. “Your wife?”
“Sister in law. My husband is down at his store.” I watched
her face, waiting for her reaction.
There was none. She was still her smiling self.
A positive sign.
“Well, welcome to the neighborhood! You guys should stop by.
My husband and I are in the house on the corner. We can barbeque. Brian, that’s my husband, will use any excuse
to drag out his grill.”
“Sounds like fun.” This time my smile is a bit more
genuine. Tired, yes, but very much
real.
Laura and I talked for a few more minutes, and then she was
off.
Maybe small time life wouldn’t be so bad.
Then my eyes drifted to the house next door, and I felt a
chill run down my spine.
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