Dear Ser (I automatically write "Ser" because I'm a Game of Thrones nerd, which is something you would know, if you had come over to say "hi" instead of slinking over to our house and, well, avoiding that),
You weren't expecting us to be awake. I know you weren't. It was barely oh-six-hundred, and our shades were closed. I'm sure you didn't anticipate that my daughter would be up early, excited to locate the Father's Day present she had made for her dad in school. (Oh, Happy Father's Day, by the way.)
I'm sure you didn't anticipate that I'd toss open the shades because it gets light so early these days.
I certainly wasn't expecting to find you literally picking through our garbage, which is what you were doing. Let's not mince words.
I'm sure you thought you were being all clever, waiting to see what was left after our big multi-block block sale (which was held on both Friday and Saturday of this weekend; I'm sure you saw the signs). When you saw what we (and our other neighbors) had left behind, you snuck out of your house under the cloak of dawn, and TOOK OUR SHIT.
Yes, I know we left it as garbage. That's true. But we were asking, like, nothing for that half-finished dollhouse. We probably would've given it to you for free, or close to it, if you'd have asked us. But you didn't. So you saved five bucks, and you ticked off a neighbor for (possibly) life. I have a very long memory when it comes to these kinds of things. From this point forward, you will be the guy who took our garbage in order to avoid conversation/parting with one of your precious Lincolns. (Here, I'd like you to meet our other neighbor, guy who always blows through stop signs.)
So, have a nice day. Hope to see you this summer at the block party you never attend.
* * *
I wrote a book! It's YA novel, THE SOUND OF US. You can find the details right here! Kirkus calls it "a winning story about a teenage voice student that hits all the right notes."
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