I lived in a quiet but friendly neighborhood. People didn’t just live here; they belonged here.
But Mr. White was different. He moved into the house across from mine three years ago. He looked to be about 50, maybe 10 years older than me.
On his first day, I decided to be the welcoming committee. I walked over with a loaf of banana bread and knocked on the door.
It creaked open just enough for him to stare at me like he’d just seen a ghost.