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There are things I need to do today.” I hoped my excuse sounded more convincing to him than it did to me.
    “Later then?”
    I smiled tightly.  “Perhaps.”
    “When will you be visiting again?”
    “Next week, same time,” I said automatically, then mentally kicked myself.
    The elevator door opened on the ground floor. Grant had obviously missed his stop, the strange persistent man. I stepped out and was slightly perplexed when he followed.
    “Are you leaving too?”
    “No, I didn’t want to hold the elevator while we finished our conversation.”
    “What conversation? I’m pretty sure our small talk was over.”
    “Ella, that was almost a joke,” he teased with his goofy lopsided grin.
    “Who’s joking?  Have a nice day Grant.”
    “That’s it? You’re leaving? You’re breaking my heart.”
    I waved over my shoulder and walked off without looking back. My cab was already waiting. I needed to go to the grocery store, but I was drained from the social contact. Instead, I had it take me home. Thankfully the cabbie was aware of my no talking rule and we rode in silence. I promised myself I would shop the next day . . . do it “tomorrow.”  It was always tomorrow. Tomorrow I would do everything I had been avoiding. Oh, how I wished tomorrow would arrive.
    Walking up to the prison I called home, I heard someone snarl, “Hold it in the right place, you stupid bitch.”
    I looked over at my creepy neighbor, Mr. Sexton, yelling at his wife, who looked no more than 14 years old. I made eye contact with her for only a second and had a surge of sympathy. That second, however, seemed to cost her dearly. Mr. Sexton hit the flashlight out of the girl’s hand and shoved her towards the house.
    “If you can’t do nothing right, go inside,” he screamed inches from her face, pushing her once more.  She lost her balance, fell to the ground.
    I told myself to mind my own business and continued to walk towards my door.  I wanted to say something to make him leave that child alone, but it wasn’t my place. I wasn’t getting involved. The last thing I needed was a neighbor feud on top of everything else.
    I was reaching my porch when I heard him yell, “Hey girlie!”
    I kept walking.
    “Hey, I’m talkin' to you.”
    I turned and looked at him with undisguised disgust.  “What?”
    “How do you like living in that big ol' house all alone?”
    I had no idea how to respond so I walked in the house without responding.  I stood at the door for a moment gathering my thoughts. Maybe I would tell Detective Troy about Mr. Sexton—his frequent visits might actually prove useful.
    Bang, bang, bang—
    The door thudded behind me, making my heart stop. I opened the door and Mr. Sexton was standing so close to the screen his nose was almost touching it. I gripped the doorknob so I could hold it closed in case he tried to come in.
    “I was talkin’ to you, girlie.”
    “I thought it was pretty clear I was ignoring you.”
    “Don’t get all high and mighty with me, you little bitch.”
    “You’re not welcome on my property. Leave or I’ll call the cops.”
    “I know things—I know what you did.”
    “I seriously doubt whether you would know your ass from a hole in the ground.”
    “Don’t think I can’t see what is going on here.”
    Before he could continue, I shut the door in his face and locked it. Then I listened for him to leave. After a couple of minutes I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. I suddenly became aware that I’d been holding my breath and let it out with a gush.
    I started towards the kitchen to make some tea when the phone rang. The shrill sound was ear piercing in the silent house and made every muscle in my body contract; obviously Mr. Sexton had left me a little jumpy. My voice shook when I answered the phone, which made me cringe at my own cowardliness, but no one was there. Some days were worse than others for the hang up calls. They always left me feeling very alone and