A knock on the door to enter an estate sale? What a moron, I thought as I grudgingly groaned going to open it. His whitened tooth grin and tanned tight torso met me and I reluctantly allowed him in.

His chestnut brown hair dipped at his even browner shoulders and he sported a frumpy girlfriend he called honey.  He extended his hand and held my eyes, introducing himself as my new neighbor. 

It was the summer of 2012. That was the summer I spent with a sociopath.