“She’s out there again,” Jessa Fairchild’s fingers carefully searched the soapy water for any leftover silverware. Satisfied that she’d left not a single butter knife or fork behind, her fingers latched onto the plug and yanked on it, “That’s the third time this week.”

Zach, Jessa’s new husband, slid up behind her. He dropped a flurry of kisses on her cheek and down her throat, making her purr in delight.

“Stop,” Jessa wiggled away, “She’ll see us.”

“So what?” Zach glared out the kitchen window into the backyard, where the old woman stood beneath their white oak tree, “If she sees something that offends her, maybe she shouldn’t be standing in our damn yard.”

“Maybe she’s lonely.” Jessa frowned at the depressing thought.

“Maybe she’s just weird,” Zach started walking towards the sliding door, “I’m going to go tell her that she’s trespassing.”

Jessa grabbed his arm, “Zach, no. She’s not hurting anything. She’s just standing out there, looking at our house.”

“Jessa, it creeps me out. I mean, who does that, huh? Who the hell stands in someone’s yard and stares in at them?”

“I know. I know it’s strange,” Jessa stepped back to the window, “She’s gone, Zach. See.”

********************************************************************************************

Two doors down, Barney Shiner’s dogs, Melba, a shepherd mix, and Chewie, a chihuahua, started barking excitedly as they raced to the back door.

Barney, who had, only minutes before, sat down in his recliner with his plate of spaghetti and flipped on his favorite crime show, cursed a blue streak, but the yelping continued, finally forcing him out of his chair to go find out what was the matter.

“Melba, Chewie, shut the hell up and go lie down,” Barney ordered, with his finger pointed in the direction of the living room, “Go. Now.”

Melba gave a final whine of discontent, but followed orders. Chewie stood his ground another full second, until Barney bellowed, “Go lay down, Chewie.”

Finally, with both dogs quiet, Barney opened his back door. The patio light, set on a motion detector, flicked on, illuminating half of his yard. Rage bubbled up inside of him when he spotted the woman that had managed to ruin his dinner yet again. She was lurking just outside of the pool of light, but Barney knew full well who she was. He bolted out the door and down the lawn, unbothered that he was only wearing his boxers, “How many times do I have to tell you to get the hell off my lawn?” he bellowed, as he approached the old woman, “Are you fucking deaf?”