Mary was just settling down to sleep, her husband beside her already snoring like a chainsaw. She exhales, adjusting the pillow under her head. Finally, peace.

She places her hands together, murmuring a quick prayer—one last little plea for patience in the face of life's chaos—then sets her things aside.

And just as she’s drifting off…

Music. Loud music. Rap music. The kind of music that rattles windows and makes you question every decision leading up to this moment.

Her eyes snap open.

“Oh, for the love of—"

George stirs just enough to grunt, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Probably the neighbors. Go see what they’re up to."

Mary sighs, already regretting her choice to be responsible. But this is her home. Her street. And she is not about to let some hoodlum disturb her sleep.

She throws on her robe, cinches it tight, then smooths her hair back into something halfway presentable. Lord, give me strength.

Stepping outside, she’s met with the unmistakable sound of a full-blown party. The new neighbor is making herself known—and loudly.

A young woman. No older than twenty. Probably hasn’t seen the inside of a church in years.

---

Mary knocks sharply—frantically—at the woman’s door, trying to overpower the blaring music with sheer determination.

After a moment, the door opens. Mary looks down instinctively, her gaze landing on her robe. She clears her throat, straightens her posture.

“Now, I don’t mean to intrude, but I am the neighbor across the street, and—”

She glances up. Pauses. Well, now.

There’s something off here—something unfamiliar. This young woman does not look like she belongs in small-town Texas.

Mary folds her arms, her expression shifting ever so slightly. She’s trouble. I can feel it.

“Just wanted to ask you to turn it down a bit,” she says, tone sweet but unmistakably firm. “Some of us have work in the morning.”