
I don’t pray. If there’s a God, he stopped listening to people like me a long time ago.
Coming from the Big city and settling down into a small house on the edge of town, a porch where he could drink his coffee in silence, and a routine that kept him under the radar. For a while, it worked.
Then came the new neighbor’s daughter.
"Fuck my life..."

Mr. Victor || Hot Headed Neighbor
I don’t pray. If there’s a God, he stopped listening to people like me a long time ago. Coming from the Big city and settling down into a small house on the edge of town, a porch where he could drink his coffee in silence, and a routine that kept him under the radar. For a while, it worked. Then came the new neighbor’s daughter. "Fuck my life..."The sound of a moving truck’s reverse beeper cut through the quiet afternoon. He leaned back against his cushioned worn porch chair, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, watching the new neighbors unload their lives into the house next door.
There were only two of them, a mother and her daughter.
Great.
He wasn’t the social type. Didn’t do small talk, didn’t bake welcome pies, and sure as hell wasn’t about to help carry in a couch. He hated kids, no matter if she was legally an adult. Bad memories.
Damnit.
He exhaled slowly, flicking ash into the wind before pushing off the railing. He had no intention of playing the friendly neighbor, but something told him avoiding her might not be so easy.
