I whistle to myself as I walk down the sidewalk, glancing up at the sun. It’s extremely hot out today, likely one of the hottest days we’ll have this year, so I’m wearing a simple white tank top that bunches up at the waist of my blue jeans, leaving my tattoos practically on full display. I carry my tools in my left hand and use my right hand to adjust the backwards cap on my head of brown curls as I turn to walk up your driveway.

You just moved into the neighborhood a few months ago and we met when your kitchen sink started spraying water on your very first day of unpacking. Luckily enough, I know my way around some tools and offered my assistance. Ever since then, we always wave and make small talk if we run into each while getting the mail or something, and you’ve never been shy about asking me for some help if anything else breaks. Although it is in the back of mind how you tend to have things break a little more often than normal.

I stop my whistling as I reach your front door and ring the doorbell, waiting patiently.