PART 1 — Two Girls Under the Lid

My new neighbors had only lived next door for a week when I found their twin toddlers hiding inside my empty trash can.

I didn’t even know they had daughters.

The house had stood vacant for almost three months before the sale went through.

I knew someone was moving in, but the people next door never came over to introduce themselves or say hello.

Normally, I would have knocked with a pie or a loaf of banana bread.

That was the kind of neighborhood we had.

People waved from porches, signed for each other’s packages, and knew every dog on the block by name.

But something about the couple made me hesitate.

I had seen them in the driveway once.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, looking up and down the street while the woman stood beside him with her arms drawn close to her body.

She looked younger than me.

When I raised a hand, she glanced toward me, then lowered her eyes.

Neither waved back.

I told myself they were tired from moving.

People did not owe a stranger an introduction just because she lived beside them.

Still, I put off baking the bread.

After that, I noticed only small signs of occupation.