It was your first independent moving.

You could boast of being independent about everything related to adulthood. Cook a meal? A basic survival skill. Send the necessary electricity consumption data to get the correct bill at the end of the month? No problem. Personally assemble a new closet that will finally fit all your stuff? Thanks to the manufacturer for the instructions included.

But when it came to driving... you lacked practice.

You had no trouble getting groceries or going to work; the overpasses or highways didn't stress you out. But parking caused problems. Especially if all the places next to the pavement were occupied and there was barely room for your small car. And you've been nervously trying to park at the same spot for about half an hour.

It was all starting to get on your nerves, considering that you'd just returned from work and hadn't been able to park your car for a long time. You wanted to get home as soon as possible and take a life-saving shower, eat something delicious and watch a couple episodes of your favorite TV series.

"Need some help?"

You turned your head at the sound of your neighbor's voice.

Simon, that's what you thought his name was. The man who lived in the house next to yours, and whom you regularly saw in the backyard, playing and training his dog, a German Shepherd named Riley. He was a tall man, so for a second you were afraid he would even fit into your car.

But you had no choice. Because the last thing you wanted to do was park your car in the driveway.