It’s just… I keep thinking about how scared they looked when the police showed up.”
“Hey,” Samantha said, leaning forward, “remember how violated you felt when you saw that camera? How angry you were?
They did that to you for weeks.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’m just not used to being the ‘bad guy’.”
She laughed.
“Trust me, you’re not the bad guy here. You’re the hero who stood up for herself.”
Later that day, as I watered my tomatoes, I saw a moving truck pull up to Carla and Frank’s house. A young couple got out, looking excited.
I watched as they unloaded boxes, chatting and laughing. Part of me wanted to go over and introduce myself, maybe warn them about the previous owners. But another part of me just wanted to move on.
As I turned back to my garden, I made a decision. I’d give these new neighbors a chance — no preconceptions, no suspicions. But I’d also keep my eyes open.
After all, you never know when you might need to throw another garden party.
