The Neighbors, Part 1
There are those among us who live false lives. Nasty men. Vicious women. Forgotten children. You will never see them. They pretend normalcy; friends and neighbors and co-workers. Inside they are monsters.
Am I one? Some things are best discovered on your own.
They moved in in late July, one rusty truck filled with rickety furniture, broken plastic toys and a mangy dog tied to the tailgate. I watched for an hour, until the truck was unloaded, before heading out to welcome them to the neighborhood.
James, Jane and little Janice. Could smell them half my yard away.
I introduced myself without offering to shake hands. Who knew what I’d come back with that I hadn’t had before.
“You come a long ways?”
“Nice place, Phoenix. So I’ve been told.”
He shrugged, bored already.
Janice ran over tugging the dog behind her. I stepped back just enough to keep her from grabbing my slacks.
“Do you have a dog?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Did you used to have one?”
I shook my head. “Don’t like dogs.”
Her face fell. The dog snuffed the grass, lift his leg.
Least he was on their yard. I’d need a fence, I decided. And soon.