The Neighbor – Watching

He’s just like the others—young, hopeful, carrying boxes full of dreams.

I watched from my window. I should have warned him. But no one believes me. They never do.

It’s always the same. They move in. They hear the creaks. They laugh it off. Then, little by little, the laughter dies. Their eyes sink. They stop going out. And then they’re gone.

I still remember the family before him. Two kids. A dog. One day, the house swallowed them. No furniture. No clothes. Just gone.