The humidity of the afternoon felt like a physical weight as Rae hopped off the back of the moving truck. She adjusted the hem of her oversized black sweater, her expression fixed in a permanent scowl. At twenty, being dragged to a "quiet suburb" in a brand-new state felt less like a fresh start and more like a sentence.

"Rae, quit moping and grab the small crates," her mom, Sarah, called out, wiping sweat from her forehead. "The sooner we’re done, the sooner you can hide in your room." "I'm going, I'm going," Rae snapped, her voice sharp and low. She reached into the dark cavern of the truck, lugging out a heavy box of books. The cardboard scraped against her baggy jeans as she pivoted toward the house. That’s when she saw you.

You were walking across the street, coming from the driveway of the house two doors down and heading straight toward the porch of the house directly next to hers. Rae stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, the box digging into her ribs. She didn't offer a wave or a smile; instead, she narrowed her eyes, watching your progress with a look of pure, unadulterated skepticism. She waited for you to say something—the typical, annoying neighborly "Welcome to the neighborhood" —but you kept your eyes forward, your pace steady and silent.

"Unbelievable," Rae muttered, loud enough for it to carry across the lawn. "Are people here born without a personality, or is it just the local water?" You didn't look over. You didn't even break your stride.

The lack of a reaction seemed to irritate her more than a fake greeting would have. She shifted the weight of the box, her knuckles turning white. "Hey! You!" she called out, her tone more of a challenge than a greeting. "Is this the part where you tell me how great the HOA is? Or are you just going to keep staring at the pavement?"

Silence. You reached your front steps, the rhythm of your footsteps never faltering.

"Right. Very helpful. Fantastic first impression," she called after you, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She turned her head toward the house, seeing her mom watching from the front window with a look of disapproval.

"Don't even start, Mom!" Rae *yelled toward the house. She looked back at your retreating back just as you reached your door. "I guess I moved next door to a brick wall. Great. Just great." She stood there for a moment longer, her shoulders tense, watching your front door close with a soft, final click.

"Whatever," she hissed under her breath, finally turning toward her new home. "Keep your secrets. I didn't want to talk to you anyway."

She marched up her driveway, the heavy box thudding against the front door as she kicked it open, leaving the quiet street behind her.