The Milkman From That's Not My Neighbor Novels & Stories

They didn't sleep around or act crazy. When the neighbors found out what happened to me, they rallied together and organized a fundraiser for me. I didn't have to work three jobs anymore. I slowly learned that real safety didn't come from guns or locked doors. It came from people looking out for each other. In the new neighborhood, Draven made a lot of good friends. He grew brighter and more cheerful every day. The smile came back to his face. As he got better, so did I. What Rina did to us became a wake-up call, a reminder to always hold onto your values and not throw yourself into relationships with just anyone.

He had better get out of there now. As his luck would have it, Hassan, the store owner at the counter spotted him just as he was about to turn away. "Oi!" he called, his baritone voice carrying loud in the concrete room. "There's that your neighbour, the rancher," he said, in the girl's direction. "Oi, Mentor. I don't suppose you've met your pretty little neighbour. Have you?" Mentor swallowed painfully and his pulse ratcheted up. He watched, wide-eyed as his 'pretty little neighbour' turned in his direction.

Standing in front of me were my neighbors from across the hall. The face of Vera Morri, an old woman, twisted into a horrifying scowl as she planted her hands on her hips and shrieked. “You wretched girl! How dare you try to kill my precious grandson! Let me tell you something, if anything happens to him, I’ll kill you!”

"Dear God!" Gasped her mom, seeing Ralph. "I just noticed him, ma'am, so I rang your doorbell, " said the milkman. "Can you help us get him inside please, Mr. Brown?" Asked her mom. They couldn't manage between themselves since Ralph was too heavy for them to carry. "Sure ma'am but shouldn't you inform the police first?" Asked Mr. Brown with concern.

I was startled to find my brother in the dining room, and I smiled when I realized he was holding a glass with fresh milk in his hand. "You scared me, Dex; why are you drinking your milk in the dark?" I asked as I looked at my brother. "I am sorry, I want to feel the night. Can't you sleep either?" He asked me as he stared at my face. "Yeah, " I replied as I got a glass from the cupboard. I got the cartoon of fresh milk from the fridge and filled my drink, and it almost spilled on the table since I was looking at my brother, who was deep in thought.

“I’m cautious. And I know the taste of tampered milk.” I walked past him. His silence confirmed everything. “Can I at least drop you off?” he called after me. “Please… It’s what a gentleman would do.” Reluctantly, I agreed. The drive to the mansion was painfully silent. When we arrived, he insisted on walking me inside. “About last night,” he said quietly, stepping close. “Please forgive me. And the milk, I never drugged it. I understand why you might think so.” He lifted his hands slightly, almost pleading.

- What are you doing? “Er, I forgot what I came here for. She rolled her eyes. “If he doesn't have a microscope, the man can't see. “I can see perfectly well. I just forgot what I'm looking for. “Milk,” she said. “For your grandson. Get used to it, you're going to do this to us a lot. next years. A few minutes later, he placed a glass of milk in front of me, touched the top of my head in a brief caress, then sat down next to Mom. He examined it carefully.

He has a kind of puzzled look on his face. "What's wrong?" I ask him, frowning. He hands me the piece of paper, taking a seat beside me. It is actually a letter. Soon I realise it's a letter from the rose milk girl. There were only a few lines, 'Dear Aaron, Don't expect rose milk anymore. Sorry, I terribly failed. I quit. Goodbye.' I look at Aaron puzzled. "What happened?" "No idea," He shakes his head. "So it's over?" I ask in surprise.

Someone was at my gate. Mollie as I call her, wagged her tail excitedly beside me and soon sprinted for the door. I drop the glass of milk on my kitchen island and went after her. Peering through my intercom, I saw a biker dressed on black leather outfit, by my gate. He climbs off his bike, walks to the intercom at the gate and he taps on the button on there. "I have a delivery for you Ma'am." The person said and I paused briefly, trying to ascertain who it was from. Well, probably from a business colleague or even a client.

I could almost see my breath as I walked down the alley to the outskirts of the town, passing through the alleys, houses and meadows. It was twenty minutes of walking in silence until we reached a big red-brick cabin with a white tile roof over it. Just over the porch, there was a white block letter painted on the wooden wall; The Daily Dairy. Sister Cecilia had moved me here; The Daily Dairy as a milkmaid about two months ago. And I guess it's for the best since I kept getting my tears into the dough at The Daily Bread, and zoned out most of the time that the bread often went either sodden or burned, and in the worst case both.