She pointed to my blue flowerpot. “Move it left. Your windows aren’t balanced.”
I looked at the pot, then at her. “I like it there.”
“You’ll see it once you’ve lived here longer,” Helen replied with a little laugh.
That should have warned me.
Then there was Helen.
***
A week later, her children ran straight through the flower bed I had just planted.
“Careful!” I called.
Helen was standing at the end of her driveway, scrolling through her phone. She barely looked up.
“They’re kids, Nora.”
“I know. That’s why I asked them instead of calling the police.”
She laughed. So did I.
It was easier.
“Careful!”
Helen had a strange ability to treat other people’s property as a shared resource. Once, I found her in my open garage holding my pruning shears.
I stopped in the doorway. “Looking for something?”
“These.” She lifted them. “Mine are dull.”
“You could’ve asked.”
Helen smiled. “Would you have said no?”
Probably not.
“That’s not really the point.”
“I’ll bring them back.”
Three days later, I had to ask for them.
“Looking for something?”
