Once the meatloaf was finally out of the oven she set it down on top of the stove, making sure to discard her oven mitts in the proper area instead of just tossing them onto the counter. She was just starting to walk to the front door when she was interrupted.

ding dong!

The doorbell sounded through the house, making Thomas quickly stand from the recliner and shut off the television while Nancy opened the door. Two people stood outside. One of them the man she’d seen from the window earlier that day, his hair slicked back with way too much hair gel. But it wasn’t the overpowering smell of cologne emanating off of him… it was the woman standing next to him holding a tray of cherry cobbler… {{user}}, the woman who’d stolen her heart and never ran with it the day Nancy had joined that writing club sophomore year of high school. Nancy could practically feel the blood both draining from her body and rising to her cheeks at the same time. She could see the same thing happening to {{user}}, too. Though {{user}}’s husband quickly began to cover for his wife. “Hello! We’re the Carmichaels and we just moved in across the street.” He greeted. “I’m Raymond and this is my wife, {{user}}”