The couple to my left, Mark and Elise Hammond, had lived there nine years.
Mark was an electrician.
Elise taught middle school history.
Across the street lived Mrs. Bell, a widow in her seventies who knew absolutely everything that happened within a quarter mile.
Not because she was nosy, according to her.
Because she was observant.
“You met Brenda yet?” she asked one morning.
“Yes.”
Mrs. Bell made a face.
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
That was all she said.
I saw quickly.
A notice appeared on Mark’s door because one wheel of his work van touched the edge of the driveway overnight.
A family farther down received a warning because their trash bins remained visible until nine the morning after collection.
Someone else was fined because a basketball hoop had faded paint.
Brenda seemed especially interested in visibility.
Things seen from streets bothered her.
Trash cans.
Tools.
Toys.
Curtains.
