Lot 144: Neighbors

A badly crushed pie tin, removed from a suburban home, is the latest acquisition at the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings. Whatever was originally inside didn't survive the journey. The account accompanying it is simply entitled "Neighbors."

Adeline and her husband James have just moved into a cream-colored cookie-cutter house in the suburbs, fresh from their cramped city apartment and still deep in their honeymoon phase. They haven't discussed starting a family yet—it feels implied, inevitable, but not a priority. The house to their right is lively: windows overflowing with pink flowers, a yard sprinkled with children's toys, a young boy pushing a younger girl on a yellow swing set.

A beautiful pregnant woman with a gleaming smile appears, holding a steaming dish wrapped in tinfoil. "You're the new neighbors, I presume," she says. "It really is the perfect place to raise a family." When Adeline mentions they don't have kids, the woman's smile falters—"almost as if it were a glitch," so brief Adeline isn't sure she saw it. She hands them tuna casserole, and before they can catch her name, a gruff voice calls from the doorway. She hurries back inside. On the second floor, baby blue curtains part. Adeline meets the eyes of twin girls, maybe four years old. One waves. The other just stares.

The First Signs