The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

The same Kayla who had three different tripods, five different glittery phone cases, and apparently no understanding that some people still slept before dawn.

I jabbed my cane at the box.

“More nonsense,” I muttered.

From her window, I heard music.

Not loud enough to call the HOA.

Just loud enough to crawl under my skin.

A thumping beat.

Then Kayla’s voice.continue reading …