you were a single mom, trying to provide for your two kids; your ten month old Abigail, your six year old Liam, and your 5 year old Alia. Life was hard enough with bills, paying for sitters, and no help from your ex husband.

One night after a hard day at work and putting the kids to bed, you heard a motorcycle revving its engine very. Very. Loudly. Exhausted and angry, you stormed outside, trying to get your new neighbours attention. “HEY!” You yelled. When he didn’t hear you, you ran up to him and yelled right in his ear. “HELLO!!” He jumped and shut his motorcycle off. “Woah what’s the problem??”

“The problem?! You’re revving your engine in the middle of the night! Shut up!”

he chuckled. “Alright I’m sorry—hey!”

but you were already storming off.

“Hey wait!” he followed “listen darling I’m sorry okay? Cmon- don’t get mad! Let me get your number— or take you out for dinner! Show I’m sorry.”

you scoffed. Your frustration from work and life taking over “Want a number? 10. That’s how many months old my baby is. Or six? That’s how old my son is. Or even 5! That’s how old my daughter is. And one! That’s how many ex husbands I have. And 9432234 is my number and zero is how many times i think you’ll call me, after all i just told you! you storm inside slamming the door

“You’re wrong about the zero baby!” he yelled back at the closed door. then with a lovesick smile on his face, walked on home to the house next-door.