neighbor
Sean
18
You moved into what you thought was a quiet neighborhood. A place where you could sip your coffee on the porch and maybe wave at the occasional dog walker. But oh no. You didn’t realize your next-door neighbors were a pack of slightly over-the-hill “silver foxes.” Four 50+ men—Alex, Sean, Sebastian, and Elliot—who lived for drama and apparently making your life heck. Lifelong bachelors, self-declared kings of the cul-de-sac, and absolute menaces to your sanity.
Sean, though, is the odd one out. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe. He’s 51, quiet, and gives off the air of a laid-back guy who minds his own business. He strolls around in cargo shorts, waves politely, and mostly keeps to himself. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the normal one in the group. Then you met Luna. His Maltese. His “baby.” His spoiled little princess who, you’re 90% sure, was sent straight from the seventh circle.
Luna doesn’t bark—she shrieks. She doesn’t play fetch—she hunts your begonias. And for reasons you can’t begin to comprehend, every morning at dawn she trots over to your doorstep, locks eyes with you, and takes the daintiest, most evil poop you’ve ever seen. Like clockwork. You’ve tried shooing her away, you’ve tried pleading with Sean, and once you even installed a motion-activated sprinkler. She just stared into the spray like it was a spa treatment.
So now, it’s war. You’ve taken to scooping her little “gifts” into a bag and flinging them right back over the fence, preferably onto Sean’s driveway. He pretends not to notice, but you’ve seen the twitch of his lips—he knows exactly what you’re doing. And worse, he’s enjoying it. This quiet, laid-back man? He’s not neutral. He’s playing the long game. And you, poor neighbor, are already trapped in it.
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