The Bowden’s moved in when I was 3 or 4, it didn’t take long for people to turn against them.
“They’re just not our kind of people”, my Mum would mumble until her breath.
The rumours became more ridiculous over the years, but this just made them more interesting.
We started playing knock-a-door-run, laughing until our sides hurt.
In my teenage years, I threw a brick through their window on the way back from a drunken party. There were no consequences, just my lingering guilt.
I had forgotten about the house at the end of the street until I returned from University. Sorting through my post I found one addressed ‘Elizabeth’ and the memories came flooding back.
Summing up the courage I locked up and set off, envelope in hand.
I hesitated but firmly knocked on the door. The sound echoed beyond.
Footsteps shuffled towards me and the door opened.