Mr. Glass leaned against his faded yellow house, looking at his next-door-neighbor.

Stewart Swanson was mowing his lawn, just like he did every Saturday.

Perfect Lines, Perfect Lawn, Perfect House, Perfect Wife, and Perfect Car

Glass struck a match, lighting his pipe. The wrinkles in his face shifted.

Steward noticed Mr. Glass standing there.

Then the old man walked towards him. Glass’ features couldn’t hide their amusement.

Stewart cut the engine. “Can I help you sir?”

“Yeah, I’ve lived three houses down from you and haven’t introduced myself, the name’s Glass.”

“Nice to meet you Sir, my name’s Stewart.”

“Stewart… I had a possum named Stewart in prison, but that was a long time ago.”

The neighbor gave him a startled stare, but Glass didn’t notice.

“I’ve got some boxes to move in the attic. How’s your time? Can you give me a hand?”

“Awe… well I do need to take my wife to the garden show this afternoon…”

“Don’t worry about that, my boxes will only take a minute.”

Before Stewart could refuse, Glass turned and walked in the direction of his house.

His neighbor hesitated and followed after him. It was 99 degrees.

How could the man wear a 3-piece suit, Stewart thought?

“Come inside,” Glass said. “The house is a mess. I’ve called the maid, but she won’t be here til tomorrow.”

They walked up a narrow staircase. At the top, Glass pulled at a ladder leading to the attic.

“When we’re done, I’ll buy you an ice-cream,” Glass said.

Stewart almost replied, but thought it best to get it over with.

There were paintings everywhere. “Got those in Europe,” Glass said. “Help me with this box.”

It was heavy and hard to lift, despite the squats Stewart had been doing in the gym. His sweat was staining the front of his blue checkered polo shirt.

Glass looked unperturbed, like the heat didn’t matter. He didn’t sweat a drop.

“Easy…” The bottom ripped out of his box.

Cash flooded the rafters.

“See, I can pay you.” Glass laughed.

“I need to be going,” Stewart suggested.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. There are five more boxes and then you’ll be done. I’ve got some plastic bags and zip ties hanging on the wall.

Stewart did as he was told. He didn’t dare refuse. They hauled the stuff into the back of Glass’ 1959 Cadillac Hearse.

“I’ve got to make a deposit,” Glass said. “We’ll get your ice-cream on the way.

Stewart almost walked away, but Glass’ eyes compelled him like gravity. They were menacing and confident at the same time.


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