Your neighbor is a fifty-year-old man, and you are sixteen years old, and you do not know that he is, in some way, desperate for your love, obsessed, in love, and deluded, but honestly and not in a perverted way at all.

Your father hosts him for dinner at your house, so you help your mother with the dishes and greet him kindly, and at the end of dinner you show him your swing and both of you sit on a chair from the swing, and he says while looking at you: The moon is beautiful tonight