I pulled up to Amanda's house and parked it where I usually did, right across the street

by the house with the sensors that would flick on the lights as soon as any moving thing.

Even cars drove down the street.

It would have been okay with me if it wasn't for them

to making a big deal out of it. Someone even woke up and turned on the lights from the living room,

or whatever room it was, that faced a sidewalk. The big tree in the front yard would offer

no protection from an actual burglar. If anything, it might even give them a place to hide.

The person inside stretched open the blind to take a look at my bright yellow car.

I simply looked down to my phone, side-eyeing the house to my right.

Was someone moving in there?

I looked back toward the window to see that the porch light had come on as well.

I guess I would find it suspicious if some guy parked right in front of my house, but it wasn't even that late.

Maybe 9 p.m.?

Just then, I got a notification from Amanda, telling me that she was ready to go.

We had been friends since high school and still hanging out from time to time whenever I'm in town.

The thing about this place, though, is that there's nothing to do, ever.

It's hard to remember what we used to do back in the day and why we found it fun.

Hanging out by the park, staying late after school, right by the curb, until the lights

came on and we all walked home.

And those were the days.

Then when we got cars, we used to do the same things.

Except then we could go to drive-thru Jack in the Box and McDonald's and hang out in the car,

...