Watching Out Across the Street

So this happened a few years ago, and I still think about it sometimes. I used to live in

a quiet suburb where nothing ever happened. Same houses, same routines. Across the street

from me was an older man who I only ever saw at night. He’d sit on his porch,

lights off, just watching the street. At first I thought it was creepy.

Every time I came home late, he was there. Just sitting. Staring.

Never waved. Never spoke. One night, I finally asked him if everything

was okay. He looked surprised and said, “I was hoping you’d ask.”

Turns out, a year earlier, the house I was living in had been broken into while