I was out for an exercise run around the neighborhood when I saw two cars parked in my new neighbor’s driveway for the first time. I’d known the house next door had been sold for a while but hadn’t seen the buyers since learning it had been sold. All my wife and I saw were movers and trucks over there for the past few weeks. Now that they’d actually moved in, I decided to wait outside for one of them to walk out and see me so I could start a conversation. When nobody walked out, I pulled out my phone and called my wife.
“Damian, I’m busy with something at work,” she told me after answering my call. “Is something wrong?”
“Nah, everything is cool,” I told her. “But guess what?”
“I think the new neighbors have finally moved in.”
“Really? Are they white?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t come outside since I noticed the two cars in the driveway.”
“I hope they’re not white.”
“They’re probably black. White people don’t willingly move into a neighborhood that’s a majority black neighborhood unless they’re running from something, no matter how nice the neighborhood is.”
“That’s true. Well, walk over there and introduce yourself.”
“I thought about doing that but I don’t know. What if they’re weird? And I just got through running. I might wanna take a shower first.”
“Baby, just go over and say hi to them. It won’t take long. I probably won’t be getting home until very late tonight, so it’ll probably be tomorrow before I can meet them.”
“You’re working late again, baby? Damn, that’s the third night in a row. I’m tired of eating delivery and takeout every night, Tisha.”
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