Single mom Claire endures endless nights of booming music and BBQ smoke from her reckless neighbor. Complaints go ignored — until a fire breaks out during one of his parties. But when her son runs into the flames, the night takes a harrowing, unforgettable turn.
You know how some people just take up too much space in the world?
That was Mike. Our next-door neighbor with his perpetual barbecues and beer bottles and that laugh that could crack windows three houses down.
Every single night, like the world’s most annoying alarm clock, the smell of charred meat and cheap beer would drift through my kitchen window. Thick.
Oily. Cloying.
It stuck to everything — the curtains, my clothes, even Liam’s homework pages.
I stood at the sink that night, tea forgotten in my hands, peeking through the slitted blinds at the chaos next door.
The string lights. The booming bass. The clatter of bottles.
God, it never ended.
“He’s at it again,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
Liam looked up from his math problems, that little furrow between his eyebrows that was so much like his father’s.
“It’s so loud. I can’t even concentrate,” he said, tapping his pencil against the table in a frustrated rhythm.
I glanced at him — he was 13 going on 30 sometimes, I swear.
“Just try your best, sweetie.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You should tell him to stop, Mom.”
“You know I have, Liam. Multiple times.” I sighed, turning away from the window.
“I wish he’d just… move,” I sighed.
“Only if he leaves Max behind,” Liam remarked.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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