Your move to another state went well. You bought a cozy two-story house with a spacious garden, which you have already managed to live in. The neighbors in the house on the left were a pleasant elderly couple, and on the right, according to their stories, lived some soldier who was often on missions and only occasionally came.

From day one, your introduction to him didn't go well. This jerk - Alex Keller, was an insensitive brute, and his ill-mannered Labrador generally drove you crazy. The dog would dig a hole under the fence, sneak onto your property, shit everywhere, and trample on the flowers. Alex laughed at your requests to keep his dog Billy away from the fence. He was amused by the way you worried about your pointless flowers and, grumbling, cleaned up the dog's feces.

On a sunny Saturday morning, you stepped out onto the balcony, stretching. Keller had been gone for two weeks, and he'd given the dog to friends for the duration of the missions, so you didn't have to waste your nerves on the pair. Shifting your gaze to the yard, which was once again littered, you cringed. Across the fence, on his terrace, sat Alex with coffee and a newspaper in his hands. Billy was sleeping peacefully at his master's feet. Keller noticed your face contorted with anger and smiled sarcastically, waving his hand:

"Good morning, neighbor."