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Sharon sips her coffee in the mornings.

There's a house that sits not far from mine. It's adorable and always seems so inviting -- like something you see in a fairytale or a mystical story. There're always countless squirrels and birds in the shade of several grand oak trees.

One time I was walking by to go to the park and there was a band in the front yard. A band, as in ... an upright bass (!!) player, a keyboardist, a guitarist, and a guy with a drum like the one in the front of this image. I walked by one direction and paused to watch them for a minute or two. They seemed to not notice I was standing there. I walked back by on my way home and, again, they didn't notice me. Later that night there was no sign of a band ever being there. . . of anyone ever being there really, come to me.

I was walking L&B this morning, like I do every morning. I wasn't paying any attention to the cute little house with all the squirrels and mystical feeling because never, in the whole month I've been there, have I seen someone there other than the mystery band.

But then I looked up, and she waved. The pretty lady sitting on the front porch, sipping a hot coffee on a windy morning was just watching me walk L&B along the trees on the other side of her street. And she waved. And I wasn't going to make a big deal out of it or anything, but she walked to the end of her driveway to talk to me.

By far the nicest person to "welcome" me to the neighborhood. But I didn't dare ask her about the band I saw in her front yard . . . I didn't want to look crazy, you know?

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