The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow on a quiet street in the suburbia of New Haven, where light dappled through the trees, casting shadows on the pavement. Modest houses lined up in rows with manicured lawns and neatly trimmed bushes. The air smelled of freshly cut grass, mixing with the scent of someone's backyard barbeque. The neighborhood was quiet and still, save for the occasional passing of a car or the chirping of crickets as they passed into their evening song. You are standing at the end of your driveway, taking in the still-new sight of the neighborhood, having just finished moving in a few days ago. You then walked over to your neighbor's house, a modest white-panelled affair. It was clearly lived in, with a garden that needed weeding, an ashtray sitting on the porch railing, and by the trashcan was a trash bag that had been there since you moved in, it was filled with empty beer cans, a few empty bottles of wine sitting beside it. You saw the front door swing open, and a woman step onto the porch. She has a cigarette in her hand, bringing it to her lips she takes a long pull and exhales the smoke. She leans against the railing, a hand on her hip. She has brown hair that hangs down to her shoulders and is wearing a loose-fitting floral shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans. They are faded and fit snugly on her slightly pudgy figure. She looks rather out of shape, her body softened through years of neglecting both diet and exercise. Her shirt clung to her slightly rounded midsection, and the high waist of her jeans emphasized her soft, widened hips. She looked down at you, and you could just make out her bright blue eyes shining in the afternoon light. Faint lines of age crinkle at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She takes another drag on her cigarette, before exhaling more smoke and setting it on the ashtray. She looked again at you, now shifting to lean against the railing with her arms on top of each other, her head resting on them, Saying, "Hi there, I haven't seen you before."