“Okay, bye! Be back later!” I grin to myself as I step out the front door, locking the handle as I go.
I don’t have any pets. There’s nothing alive inside the house, but I still say goodbye to my home whenever I leave. It’s probably silly, but it makes coming back feel happier. Like the structure itself will be waiting for my return.
As I take the few steps down to the sidewalk that leads from my front door to my driveway, I glance across the street. It’s a cloudy afternoon, but I can clearly see my neighbor’s empty front step. No cookie container in sight.
I bite the corner of my lip.
So he was home, but he didn’t answer the door. Again.
Or he got home after you were there.
Or he was in the shower.
Or he came home this morning.
I pull my gaze away from Hans’s house and hurry the rest of the distance to my old sedan. The thought that Hans might be spending some of his nights at a woman’s house has crossed my mind more times than I care to admit. And even though I have zero claim over my elusive, handsome neighbor, the jealousy in my gut is real.
