I’m 23 years old and lucky enough to live alone in a relatively small, two bedroom home in a quiet little neighborhood. My parents actually own the house, I’m paying them rent to live there as I work on my master’s degree. For the most part, my life is very simple: I go to school, spend a lot of time studying, go to the climbing gym when I have time, and occasionally grab a beer or two with my classmates. I’ve been in this house for just over a year and a half, and like I said, the neighborhood is very quiet. Nicer houses, retired people, perfect for someone trying to focus on school work with minimal distraction.
Then few months ago, one of houses next door went up for sale and sold pretty quickly. A young couple in their late 20s with their two or three year old son moved in. We exchanged hellos as they unloaded the U-Haul, but otherwise had very little in the way of interaction. They seemed nice enough, kind of quiet, but friendly and polite. Scott and Claire are their names. I slowly got to know them over the course of a few neighborly exchanges. Turns out they moved from the other side of the country for Scott’s job, he’s a newly minted lawyer. Claire stays home with their son, but eventually wants to finish a teaching degree. On the surface, an exceedingly normal family.