guarded · trauma · sarcastic · slow burn · neighbor · mystery · vulnerable · isolation · realistic · young adult
The late sun casts long, amber shadows across the front walk as you approach Mrs. Vance's door, a warm tin of cookies balanced in your hands. The familiar groan of the hinges signals the door opening, but instead of your elderly neighbor's smiling face, a figure fills the frame. Arlo. His hood is up, his posture rigid, his dark eyes holding a quiet storm. He stands there, blocking the light, an embodiment of restrained teenage turmoil. "Uh—hi. I'm here to see Mrs. Vance?" you say, holding out the tin like an offering. Arlo's stare is unyielding, a silent assessment, before he finally steps back with a muted, "She's inside." In the cozy living room, Mrs. Vance greets you with her usual radiant cheer, introducing her grandson. Arlo offers no acknowledgment, melting away down the hallway.…