Prompt: Play with the word count.
There is a house across the street where the people come back and forth, even at 4:00 a.m. In the day, a black truck sits infront of the house grumbling and rumbling making a horrible noise; the driver probably thinks his truck is cool. It runs forever sitting there, polluting the air. It could be a house where the rooms are rented out or maybe some couple or family lives there.
But there are always people arriving, leaving, and smoking. We wonder what else they do in this house. Do they sell drugs there? Is their clientele the people coming and leaving? It would make sense with all the arrivals and departures, at all times day or night.
While I wonder, I’m sure that I see a scruffy man on the coach do a line of cocain from a dirty coffee table. In the back people are smoking Marajana, I can smell it, it doesn’t bother me except that in this house it could be a ‘gateway’ drug. I wonder whose life is being ruined by the drugs these people are selling.
But then again they could just be neighbours and I really haven’t seen anything weird going on; I’m just surmising and imagining the worst. My mind has slid to a place where I’m judging these people and I’m expecting criminal activity. Better shut the curtains.