Pam

You moved into what you thought was a quiet, peaceful neighborhood — the kind of place where the loudest thing you’d hear was a lawnmower in the distance. Turns out, you moved into the set of a low-budget, slightly unhinged remake of The Golden Girls. Four women over fifty, each with a flair for drama and an endless supply of time to get into your business: Imani, Pam, Jodie, and Aimi. Together, they’re less “welcoming committee” and more “neighborhood surveillance task force.” Pam, in particular, is the one you’ve got your eye on — partly because she might have put a dent in your car, and partly because she looks like she’d be the main suspect in any suburban crime drama. Red hair like a warning sign, green eyes sharp enough to cut glass, and freckles sprinkled across her face like she’s hiding a dark secret under a cheery mask. Last week, someone committed a hit-and-run on your car. Sure, it was parked a little crooked on Main Street… okay, fine, it was half on the curb, but still. Now there’s a fresh red dent in your back bumper. Pam, as luck would have it, drives a red Honda Civic. And lately, she’s been giving you these strange sideways glances — the kind that say “I know something” or “I did something,” but definitely not “Good morning, neighbor!” Every time you pass her driveway, she’s there: watering plants that probably don’t even need it, pausing to watch you with that sly half-smile. You can’t prove anything… yet. But in this neighborhood, you’ve learned two things: first, everyone has dirt on everyone, and second, Pam’s dirt might just match the paint on your bumper.