A Good Neighborhood の小説・ストーリー

With that I dashed out of the kitchen " You cannot say thank you abi!!!" I heard Omale shout from the kitchen. " Come and collect it!!" I shout back "Can you guys just shut up" that was George. I would say he was the nerd of the house. Always reading, I read too but his own was just too much. He hated noise...any form of noise, and guess the worst, he believed in being a virgin still marriage, so he found our acts very irritating. Lol... Sometimes I wonder why God decided to waste such beauty on his kind of personality. But sometimes he breaks out of that his shell. It rarely happens sha.

The next day he got ready to go to meet Gabi's parents, so he went, but he couldn't find the address, no matter how hard he looked he couldn't find it, so he called Gabi on the phone and then Gabi went to the neighborhood or the colony where he lived, it was a neighborhood with a very bad reputation, it was full of delinquents and thieves, so it was very dangerous to venture into it, so when Gabi arrived he felt safer, when she arrived he said to her: -Hello love come on I'll tell you where, as you will see where I live is not very nice, I hope you understand why at all costs and go over whoever passes I have to get out of here to, to look there, there you can park there, there. Julian saw a

Across the street, a family was returning from church, and another neighbor who probably never went to church was working on his yard. This was a great neighborhood. A place to really live, not just a building to sleep in and play video games, which is how he saw his condo. He could picture himself here, sitting with Ace on that big front porch while Lola patrolled the yard in front of their crayon-crazy funky house.

As we walk through the quiet streets, I realize that even as the dream of a family with Karen drifts away, Bart's faithful companionship makes this journey a little more bearable. As I stroll through the peaceful streets with Bart, I notice that the neighborhood is surprisingly lively, even on the brink of dinnertime. Children play cheerfully in front of their houses, and the flow of cars is almost nonexistent. An involuntary smile forms on my face as I realize that the realtor's choice is spot-on; I find exactly what I am looking for a pleasant and safe place for a future family. It's true, at the moment, my life doesn't fit into the typical family model. Not yet. But I haven't lost hope of

He’s good at math; he doesn’t have to be good at flowers. The neighborhood was quaint. There were plenty of old houses like the one we were staying in, but there were also smaller ranch-style houses every now and again or a newer contemporary build. We wandered around for a couple of hours, even explored the historic district and got a drink at a soda fountain downtown. When we finally made it back to the house, the sun was starting to go down, and we’d be having a meeting to go over Eidolon Festival protocol soon. Even though I wasn’t participating, I still had to be there.

Youyou, who was frowning, thought of something and suddenly broke into a quiet smile. He knew who had gifted her this. Anyway, he was not comfortable with the former apartment. That place was rather messy and unsafe. This was especially the case at night; danger lurked at every corner near the apartment with that bad neighborhood lying on its east side. Precious Gardens district, under Dragon Court Property Group, belonged to Dice Financial Group. In terms of safety and security, this place could not be faulted. The three of them were about to enter the gate when they heard a heavy motorcycle rolling in from a distance.

--- The site was in a neighborhood neither of us knew. Not the land trust neighborhood, not the school neighborhood, not Dr. Mensah's catchment — somewhere further east, a part of the city that had the specific quality of having been promised things many times and received fewer of them than promised. The kind of neighborhood that had stopped believing in planning notices because the notices had come and gone and nothing had changed. Grace took us on a Wednesday.

The maids were doing chores around the house. I placed our son into a stroller and we left. I loved the neighborhood. Lush, tall trees lined the roadway. Everyone's property was well kept, the lawns and bushes were trimmed and shaped neatly, the air was cleaned and so was the streets. "Hey, good morning, Sacha," a voice behind me greeted. I looked and saw my next door neighbor jogging up to me. "Hi Esme," I answered. "And hi baby," she said and gave my son a small wave.

“Yes, ma’am.” We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt lighter. When we pulled up to my neighborhood, I braced for the awkward silence. Most rich people looked at my street like it was beneath them. Dirty. Dangerous. But Anne just smiled and said, “Nice place. Real people live here.” That warmed me more than she knew. “Thanks for the ride.” “You’re welcome. And remember—no more thank yous, okay?” I nodded. “See you soon.” She waved and pulled away, and I turned toward my apartment building… only to freeze in place.

I keep away from the pools of light under the street lamps, but it seems an unnecessary precaution, since the figure ahead of me never looks back. We reach the end of our neighborhood, and five-store shabby buildings replace the neat private houses and clean lawns. I don’t like this part of the town. It’s nasty enough during the day, let alone at night. There’s a bowling place nearby that I’ve been to with my pals, but apart from that, there’s nothing but the cheapest and the oldest houses, and a few sleazy motels renting by the hour. There’s a large park, too, proudly called The Central Park, but it’s mostly frequented by drug dealers and prostitutes rather than by joggers.