77 Urban Street

It was the day after my uneventful 26^th birthday that I met another neighbor. The second neighbor I met was Kristy, a quiet girl with long curly brown hair and brown eyes. Kristy lived on the second floor of the four family house. She always said Hi and basically kept to herself. My kind of friendly neighbor or so I thought.

I had noticed Kristy coming home with a different guy every weekend. It was hard not to notice when you heard people coming in and out of the house. When I say “heard people”, the walls were so thin you could hear everything. Suddenly the guys that were coming over turned into girls coming over.

I picked up my cordless phone one day, and heard voices on the line. I tried changing the channel but they were still there. They couldn’t hear me, but I heard Kristy loud and clear say how she was bisexual and confused like her mother. She also said it might have been because she had been partying a lot. That was too much information for me so I hung up the phone.

The following weekend, I got up around seven o’clock to go to the supermarket. I got in my car and drove down our street. To my shock and surprise I saw Kristy’s car blocking the street. My first thought was that someone hit her car and spun it out of her parking spot.  Wrong! As I got closer to the scene I saw her car was in perfect condition. I was able to squeeze by her car and go to the store. I had no idea what happened, until I returned from the store.