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My Neighbor

 For a long while, I believed that my neighbor had ghosted me. This was the neighbor who recently vacationed on "Pig Island."


We had a stretch where we regularly dined together--then the text messages became terse and un-encouraging. As a conspiracy theorist, I imagined that I had done something outrageous and offensive (and I'd never learn the truth).

But my neighbor *does* continue to narrate his life for me. The narration remains breathless (and it happens whenever we pass each other on the sidewalk). "I'm hosting 25 guests for a Golden Globes watch party and sleepover--then I'm off to Manila for a month." "I said that my boss runs a toxic workplace, and he retaliated by reporting me to Child Protective Services." "My meeting with CPS caused me to have a heart attack--I was briefly, officially dead--but now I'm back on track and working full-time in a Kindergarten classroom."

Once, I tried to rehearse for a brief encounter. I had a scintillating tidbit to offer. As soon as my neighbor stopped talking, I shouted, "I'm seeing Lea Michele in Chess!"

I had thought that my factoid might delight my neighbor--maybe he would decide that the fascinating Chess fans at 67 Maplewood ought to get a social "second chance."

This did not work. My neighbor smiled, in a pitying way, and ran off to prepare for Manila.
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