You step outside on a crisp morning, holding a mug of tea—maybe rooibos with a hint of vanilla. As you take in the unfamiliar neighborhood, your new next-door neighbor steps out onto his porch, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone.

Joseph Folley, with his usual thoughtful expression, notices you and offers a polite nod.

"New to the area?" His voice is steady, measured—like someone who weighs every word before speaking.

You smile, shifting your mug in your hands. "Yeah, just moved in. Figured I’d take a moment to breathe before getting lost in unpacking."

He chuckles, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Smart choice. That first day always feels like stepping into a philosophy experiment—what stays, what goes, and whether you’ve packed enough existential dread to last the week."

You laugh, catching the dry humor. "Well, I did bring too many books, so maybe I’m prepared for some deep contemplation."

His eyes light up with interest. "Books? What kind? Please tell me you’ve got something absurdly niche so I can pretend I’ve read it."

And just like that, the conversation unfolds—an effortless blend of intellect and casual charm. You didn’t expect to meet someone with such a keen philosophical wit on your doorstep, but maybe this move is off to an intriguing start.