ARNOLD NORTH

The neighbors didn’t like him. That was okay because Arnold didn’t like them either. Most of the people who lived on the Court, who lived in this whole damn town, were smug and self-congratulatory with their Commie politics and Bernie bumper stickers. It was much worse since the last election.

He and Aggie had as much right to live here as those people. They had both worked at the college for twenty years, Aggie mopping up the messes of snooty girls who never said thank you, and him keeping the air temperature perfect for their highnesses. They always expected that Aggie would quit when she got pregnant, but that didn’t happen, so she kept working. He bet that their neighbors would just as soon they moved away, but their landlord worked at the college and rented them the house cheap. They didn’t need friendly neighbors. He and Aggie kept to themselves, and they did just fine.

Just now, a nosy neighbor showed up at the door with a photograph of the old lady from in Number Two, the one with a flower name. Seems like she wandered off. He never cared for her old man, but she—Rose? Lily?—always had a smile and a hello and she sometimes gave him tulips or daffodils from her garden. The neighbor asked if he and Aggie would help look for her, if the cops said it was okay. Why weren’t the cops out looking now? It wasn’t that cold yet, but she was an old lady. Maybe they thought she’d wander on home or something?

After the nosy neighbor left, he told Aggie about the search party. They both had the day off before working the weekend, so maybe they would decide to join a search party. Even if the snobs on the Court probably didn’t want their help.