“Get out of my house. Get, shoo”, the old woman flailed her hands as she squawked, the rolled newspaper in her hand colliding with Evans chest painfully.

Evan stared down at the woman standing on his doorstep, absolutely dumbfounded.

“I…er….what?”, he managed to sputter, still half asleep. He had been upstairs in his bed catching up on some much-needed sleep after a full night of bartending , only to be awoken by the sound of the doorbell and a crazy woman at his doorstep.

The woman crossed her stout arms and frowned up at him.

While Evan was tall and lanky, towering over most people, this woman was so unbelievably tiny in comparison, that she must’ve been shorter than average.

With her silvery hair coiled in purple rollers and a bright pink fluffy robe wrapped around her body, she looked positively terrifying. A perfect embodiment of the attention seeking loudness Evan liked to avoid.

“Well? Are you planning to rob me or something? If you were then tough luck. My husband, Gary, keeps our valuables in a safe down at-“

She suddenly stopped speaking and narrowed her eyes, piercing Evan with her gaze.

“Oh, I’m most definitely not telling you the name of my bank”, she finished.

Evan leaned against the doorframe and matched her stance, his arms crossed defensively in front of him. He really should’ve covered up more before answering the door, he thought suddenly.

Did answering the door in boxers and arguing with an old woman at said door, count as public indecency? Certainly not he hoped.

“First off, I don’t want to know about Gary and his bank or whatever, and secondly, this is my house”, Evan stated slowly. For extra emphasis he gestured to the floor mat beneath the woman’s feet. Surely a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doormat in the suburbs was a rare enough décor choice that this woman wouldn’t have the same.

The old woman looked down, shuffling around in her fluffy slippers to get a better look at the mat.

She tucked the newspaper under one arm and bent down to picked up the mat between her index finger and thumb as though it were the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. She tossed it aside and Evan watched, mouth agape as the mat slid down the porch stairs and onto the sidewalk.

“Hey! What gives you the right to-“

But the woman cut him off by swatting his arm again with the newspaper. Evan gritted his teeth in frustration. It took every ounce of energy to restrain himself from punting the old woman across the street. She was seriously starting to get under his skin.

“Look mam, I think you are just confused, if you need help finding your home, I’m more than willing to help you”, Evan said finally between gritted teeth. He had taken one ethics class before dropping out of university years ago, he might as well put that nonsense $700 class to work and at least attempt to take the moral high road.

The woman let out a shrill laugh, her face scrunching up and glasses sliding down in the process.

“No Deviant, this is my house”, she said once her laughter subsided.

Evans eyebrows rose up his forehead, almost reaching his hairline in surprise.

“Um, no. This is myyy house”, Evan corrected her, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“I pop out of the house for one second to grab the newspaper from the lawn and suddenly you deviants see it as an opportunity to break into a little old lady’s house. Ridiculous”, she says in exasperation.

Evan swallowed hard, forcing away a lexicon angry profanities. He was irritable, tired, and was in dire need of a shower. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with all of this.

Evan leaned forward, popping his head out enough to glance quickly at the houses lining the street.

As expected, the old woman practically jumped away at his nearness and clutched her chest in disdain; Evan rolled his eyes at the dramatic gesture.

He pointed to the house directly across the street, the only house currently missing a newspaper on its front lawn.

“Are you sure that’s not your house over there?”

The woman whipped around so fast that Evan was sure she’d topple over, and stared at the house Evan was pointing to.

She squinted her eyes at the house for a few long seconds before suddenly turning her head back in Evans direction. Evans heart nearly stopped at the sight of her beady blue eyes suddenly puncturing him once more. Even tucked behind wiry glasses, the woman had some seriously unnerving eyes, Evan thought. Like a hawk or a predatory bird or something.

She was quiet for a while, so long that Evan was sure she was waiting for him to say something.

But then, her shrill voice, much louder than before, let out a scream that practically woke the whole neighbourhood.

Evan winced and blocked his ears with flattened palms until the screaming finally ceased. Unfortunately, that left her vocal cords free to speak once more.

“Thief! Deviant! This man is trying to rob me”, she screamed, “he’s trying to fool me and convince me this house isn’t mine, but I know my red door. I know this is my house”.

Evan sighed, unsure if it was even worth mentioning that yes, she did in fact have a red door, but so did he- and everyone else on this block.

Living in tract housing, unsurprisingly, meant that all the houses on this block looked the same.