I was at the kitchen window, drinking some water when I saw a man walking from the far back tree that curves over towards the big brush pile. He was thin and wearing a white and red checked shirt.
And I was like, “Who is that?” and I saw the neighbor’s dachshund traling behind him, but he was too thin to be my neighbor, by far. And then I thought, “Cool, I hope we can establish a neighborhood tradition of walking through each other’s back yards, because I really rather walk Mrs. Wigglebottom out to Lloyd through back yards than down the Pike.”
But he never came out on the other side of the brush pile.
I’m going to admit that, when the girls first told me about seeing him, though they each told me separately, I thought they had concocted a good ghost story for me as a somewhat fitting housewarming gift.
But I saw what I saw.