I Used to Live Here
The way he drove up the driveway you would have thought he lived there. There were plenty of places where he could have parked. Even though there was only a one-car garage, the top of the hill where the garage was located was surrounded by a large cement area, large enough for half of a basketball court. But he knew right where to park-over by the bird bath. The bird bath was located on the left, the garage in the middle and the house on the right. Beyond the bird bath lay the path to the woods. The woods were dense with tall Georgia pine trees. They were so close together it seemed impossible to find a path that would lead deep into their thick foliage. But there was a path there, if you knew where it started. And he did.
He parked the car and got out. The lure of those woods made him stop. He was as scared of those woods as he was familiar with them. But that’s where he’d do it. He had waited for 40 years to do this. And nothing had changed that much. This would be easier than he had thought.
“Hi, my name is Brad, I used to live here. I was in the neighborhood and just wanted to stop and say hi to my old house.”
The way the beautiful woman answered he door when Brad knocked ever so softly, made him think she must have been in the hallway near the door when he knocked. Maybe she saw him drive up and had been looking at him the whole time.
But that was very stupid of her to open the door so eagerly for a stranger. What was she thinking? It wasn’t good for her to trust people so easily. He would have to one day show her how dangerous that could be.
She maneuvered her yellow Jeep down the long driveway and back up again and came to a screeching halt near the stepping stones that led up to the door. She bounced out of her jeep like you would expect any perky blonde girl-next-door to do. And she almost skipped to the door. How did they do it? How did girls like this stay so upbeat? They were always so full of energy, so optimistic about the whole life thing.