There was only one moving truck parked outside that brought relief to Stephen Sanders. The house next door was on the market for a long time and it finally was sold. Stephen contemplated buying it outright and keeping it for himself. A wealthy real estate mogul, he could name a price that any buyer would be afraid to pass up. Unfortunately for him, the house his new neighbor bought was not his to sell. Nonetheless, he was glad the small estate was sold. This only meant that his property value would also go up as the neighborhood filled up.
Opening up the truck and examining his sole possessions was Jerome Ray. He let out a big sigh as he stared at the back of the truck and the few pieces of furniture that greeted him. Jerome took hold of the assistance handle and put a leg up on the bumper of the truck, hoisting himself up. The thought that he should have just had some movers take care of all of this crept into his head. He was nearing 50 and his body was getting too old to do this stuff so often. Hopefully, he thought, this would be the last time. Jerome was a retired professional football player. On a bookshelf in the truck, he picked up a framed photo from his time in the league. He admired himself. Back then, he was a formidable defensive tackle. Now not even the best defensive tackle could hold him back from his favorite comfort foods.
That was a long time ago
, another sharp sigh.
Startled by a noise from outside, Marisa Sanders looked out to see what the commotion was. She parted a sheer curtain to see. Expecting the kids across the street to be causing a ruckus, Marisa was caught off guard by the sight.
That's one behemoth of a mover
, she thought . He stood tall, maybe 6'3'' and very big. Probably the most striking feature she recognized was that he was black. To get a clearly view, she pulled the curtain aside and looked intently. He was opening the truck bay. As he put his long leg on the bumper, Marisa immediately caught the size of his thighs as his shorts rode up slightly. She watched him a little longer, studying him. He was looking at a photo that she could not discern but did see that he had a few things to move.
Surely he couldn't move them by himself
, she questioned.
Marisa went downstairs and met Stephen in the living room. Stephen was reading on his tablet and looked up to see his wife a bit flustered. "What's the matter dear?" He asked her.
"Did you know we have a new neighbor?" She looked out the window as Stephen had earlier, noticing the truck parked outside.
"Yes I did. Joseph told me he made a killing on the sale last week. He said something about the buyer really wanted it. Hopefully they're a quiet family." Stephen said as he continued reading his tablet.
"Well, it doesn't look like they brought much with just one truck. I saw the mover open up a barely filled bay. There were some big things there though, looked like a couch or two. I think there was only one guy." She looked at Stephen, "Maybe you should go help the mover, it didn't look like there was anyone else." Stephen furrowed his brow at the suggestion. Marisa looked at her lanky husband--
he won't be much help but it's the thought that counts.
"Please? I'm sure the new neighbor will appreciate the welcome." Stephen heaved a heavy breath and agreed, dragging himself to his garage.
A commotion startled Jerome as he saw the garage open at the house next door. Walking out of the garage was a thin, middle aged white man with glasses and a gaunt face.
This must be the neighbor the Realtor told me about
