Neighbor.

There is a man across the street who yells “hello” to me when I put Arienette in her car seat.

He never forgets to say my name.

He stands in his driveway, waving enthusiastically.

He is always smiling, and seemingly so happy to see me.

This might all be endearing, if I had the slightest clue who he was.

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One thought on “Neighbor.

  1. Pingback: Index of Posts. | Inside the Mind of a Dramatic Mother

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