For one, the house was too big. Most people liked big houses, but not him. Big meant conspicuous--overbearing. He didn't have enough furniture to fill his vast bedroom and he was loath to get more because he felt it would be superfluous and unnecessary. And what was worse, every other house in the neighborhood was the same size.
For another, the neighbors kept to themselves. He and his family had been moving in for two days and not a single person had come over to introduce himself or herself with a poorly made casserole or pie. Now, granted, he didn't think the casserole was absolutely necessary, but it was considered good manners by pretty much every suburban neighborhood in America to introduce yourself to the newcomers. But apparently this neighborhood was the lone outlier.
His mother tried to excuse this behavior--claimed that they were busy and would eventually come over to introduce themselves when they were sure that everything was settled in. And as for the casserole thing--no one likes casseroles anyway.
Personally, he didn't buy it. And he blamed his neighbors' bad manners on their gargantuan houses. They were too preoccupied with their tiny lives in their huge houses to acknowledge any newcomer. How self-centered.
Then one day, as he was walking aimlessly around his gigantic backyard, he heard the sound of creaking from the house on the opposite side of the street. He looked up and felt his jaw practically fall to the ground and what he saw.
In the backyard of the house behind his, he saw a girl with dull red hair scaling the trellis leaning against the side of the monstrous house. The girl was lithe and graceful, and obviously skilled at climbing trellises--like she had done it a million times before.
But what was she doing? Did she live there? If so, why was she climbing up the trellis? Was she sneaking in to see her boyfriend (or girlfriend)? Was she a burglar? Was she going through the neighborhood to steal valuables from the host of conspicuous houses?
So great was his curiosity that he couldn't stop himself from shouting, "Hey! What are you doing?"
The girl heard his shout and turned her head. And even from his poor vantage point and far distance, he could make out a pale face and the sharpest green eyes he had ever seen. And those green eyes had some kind of intense piercing power or something, because the minute they fixed on him, he froze. He stood stock still for what seemed like an eternity as her razor eyes stayed focused on him. Then, after that prolonged moment, she turned away from him and continued climbing. When she reached the top, she swung her leg onto the roof and clambered through the nearest unlocked window.
He stood there for several shocked moments. He was trying to recover from what he had just witnessed--and also from the girls cutting gaze. Even though he was no longer within her sight, he was still trying to reorient himself from the havoc her emerald irises wreaked within him.
And truthfully, he was a little confused, as anyone who had been in the same position would have been, he was cure. Maybe she lived there--at the very least, she knew someone who lived there. But who was she? Was she a neighbor, or was she an intruder? One thing was for sure: she was interesting.
He was still ninety percent certain he was going to hate living in that neighborhood. But there was still that remaining ten percent that gave him hope.
***
Ciao.
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