The Milkman From That's Not My Neighbor นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I frowned and listened hard before I said, "I can't hear anything." She grinned and clapped. "Exactly. You can't hear anything. Everything here is farmed and grown from the ground. They hardly use any processed things. Like Mr Barns next door, he has some cows that he milks every morning. Everybody buys their milk from him. There is a woman down the street who also grows vegetables... I'm sure they would all come to welcome you soon." I examined the house. It was like a child decorated it. There were mismatched chairs, lopsided picture frames hanging from the wall, and clunky pieces of furniture all over the place. But it made the house very welcoming.

"A good neighbor is a present help. If you let my son use this place as his playroom, wouldn't he be just like your grandson? "With the addition of a grandson, you'll have more support later in life. You old fool, how can you not understand this?" I raised the knife and swung it once through the air. "If you don't leave right now, believe me, I'll chop you to pieces." Shirley stepped backward again and again until she finally retreated outside. I slammed the door shut. Her shrill, annoying voice was finally cut off. I'd lived in this apartment for two years, and the neighbors next door changed as often as the seasons.

Renato stood a few feet away, one brow raised, already reaching down to catch a rolling can before it hit the gutter. "I've got it." "Clearly." He picked up two more anyway, ignoring my protest entirely. "You know, there's an easier solution to this particular crisis." "Carrying fewer bags?" "Not cooking." He handed the cans back, something warm and teasing in his voice. "There's a place near here. Good food, better than whatever you're planning to burn on your own stove." "I don't burn things." "You strike me as exactly the type who burns things." "You don't know me well enough to say that."

And then there was him. Mr. Rowan. The farm owner. Broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, rough hands that looked like they could snap a man in half. His eyes raked over me like I was already in trouble. “You’re Chrissmel?” he asked, voice low and gritty. “Yeah.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Here to… milk cows, I guess.” His mouth tugged at the corner, almost amused. “Follow me.” The barn stank of hay, sweat, and animals. I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh… this is disgusting,” I muttered, hands already sticky with straw. “I should be in New York right now, not jerking off cows for cash.”

good. He was understanding. We couldn't eat by the porch because with nosy neighbors like Mr. Wilkins it was close to impossible. He enjoyed a good cup of tea, cookies anything edible and gossip. Lady Tracy and Mr. Wilkins were like bestfriends. I did not suspect anything of them, anything despicable. He often came to knock on the door, having brought Lady Tracy the morning paper. He also delivered personal groceries from his store directly to our door. It was a routine. He would then invite himself in after hearing that William was not around. They did not get along well, Mr. Wilkins will unashamedly ask if 'the maid left any left overs'

We were talking on the phone, and I brought up a doubt that had just arisen. "Isn't the neighbor named Bart?" I asked, feeling puzzled. "Karen, Bart is the neighbor's dog, not the neighbor himself!" Camila laughed, eliciting an involuntary laugh from me. "Oh, so the neighbor must be Colin, right?" I asked. It was only at that moment that I realized I never knew the name of the guy next door, because both my parents and my son always referred to him as "the neighbor." Camila, amused by the situation, explained:

Or so I thought. Then they showed me the surveillance footage. The grainy black-and-white video played on a screen. Two figures loitered near my house over the past week. One of them, just this morning, had slipped something into the fresh milk I usually ordered. "A hallucinogen," the officer explained. "You're lucky you didn’t drink it." A chill crawled up my spine. "I was in a rush today," I murmured. "Didn’t pick up the milk." They replayed the footage, zooming in on the taller figure. My breath hitched.

"Full of wolves at that." She removed the pumps from my boobs, and both bottles looked full. Oh, it felt like a weight had been pulled off my body, but my breasts were aching. "Can I see that?" Miall asked, and Anin passed him the bottle. He swirled the milk around and did the unexpected. Miall downed the milk and looked at me. "I am jealous, Amanah; he won't be the first to have your milk." This dumb bitch!

She saw a man standing at the door, without a clothe on, behind him, were angry-looking young men. “Are you the new owner of this house?” the man at the front asked Mama Sarah. Mama Sarah arched her eyebrows, “Who are you?” she retorted, she could sense the group are not friendly. The man standing at the front smiled cynically “we are friends from the neighbourhood, we saw you parking in, and we came to say hello” Mama Sarah nodded, “I am the owner, is there a problem?” she inquired. The man standing glanced behind him, before facing Mama Sarah with a serious face.

Even the knights rarely came to patrol, but when they did, they would always capture a few lawbreakers for stealing from the city’s other districts. “Only the freshest of the freshest milk.” Arthur whipped off a thick layer of moistened straw and dozens of bottles of fresh chilled milk were revealed. “Take your pick!” Leila smiled brightly and began to admire the carriage full of delicious, creamy liquid. But before she had the chance to choose, a group of wild neighbours gathered around.