Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…

The annoyance didn’t seem to stop. He laid there, waiting for peace and quiet to return, but instead the noise continued.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

It was coming from outside. Were they picking up the trash today? His days sometimes got mixed up thanks to the long and late hours he spent in the studio, but he was 98 percent positive that it was Thursday. Garbage day was Tuesday.

With relief he sighed. Finally, the “beeping” had stopped.

Or so he thought. Just as he closed his eyes it started again.

“Dammit.” With a huff, he threw the blankets off his nearly-nude frame and drug himself to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror told him all he needed to know. He definitely hadn’t been asleep long enough. Still, he was awake now and his curiosity was urging him to find out what the ruckus was going on outside.

Slipping into a pair of pants, he maneuvered through his empty house, making way to the front door. He glanced out a front window first, finding that a huge moving van was blocking the street in front of his house and the two on either side of him.

It had to be for the house across the street. The single-level home had been vacant ever since he’d lived on the street, although the FOR SALE sign had only been up for two short weeks. From what he’d learned, the owner finally got tired of it being empty and had decided to sell. At least that’s what Gabby, his gossipy and overly-flirtatious next door neighbor, had relayed to him when she’d caught him coming home a couple days before. The divorcee had been trying to get in his pants ever since he’d moved in and for about two minutes he actually considered it before thankfully realizing she’d be much more trouble than she was worth. He probably would have had to move if he’d have followed the wrong instinct.

A black pair of flip flops just inside the front door, he slipped them on and stepped outside to get a better look. As usual, it was sunny and 70. He took a deep breath before taking a step. He didn’t have much of a front yard—low maintenance—just how he liked it, which made the truck just a few feet ahead. He moved towards the back end to get a look around it.

The tall  back slider door was open. Someone was definitely moving in, not out. The truck was full to the gills, a monstrous sized armoire catching his eye. He wondered what kind of neighbors they’d be. Was it a family? A single guy? Another single woman? For some reason the opposite sex seemed to run the street. The women that were married didn’t seem to act that way. Not around him anyway.

Two burly men walked towards him empty handed. “Who’s moving in?” He asked.

They both shrugged. “Something Sanders?” the one man looked at the other as if he was asking if that was right.

“A woman with a lot of heavy furniture,” the other guy remarked.

So that confirmed it. Another female who’d probably be hitting on him just like the rest of the women that lived close by. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

© BrandyRae 2008