time since moving in. She had a list of errands to run-groceries, a visit to the post office, and perhaps a stop at the local café to familiariz

professional, yet there was an air of distance about him. Marie hesitated for a moment, unsur

s clipboard, his expression unreadable. "Good

ering a tentative smile. "I'm Marie

was more to him than met the eye. As she walked down the street, she couldn't help but replay the encounter in her mind. She had tried to engage him, to make a connection, but he had remained closed off. Was it her? Or was it just his nature? She couldn't tell. Later that day, as she sat in the small café Francis had recommended, sipping her coffee and watching the world go by, she found herself thinking about him again. There was something intriguing about his aloofness, something that made her want to know more. But she also wondered if she should just let it go. After all, she was new here. She didn't want to come across as intrusive or pushy. The next few days passed in a blur of settling in-unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and getting acquainted with the neighborhood. Each time Marie passed the gate, she saw Francis standing there, his posture straight and his gaze watchful. He always greeted her with a polite nod or a brief "Good morning," but the distance between them remained. One afternoon, as she returned from a trip to the grocery store, she noticed Francis standing by the gate, his eyes scanning the street. He looked up as she approached, his expression unreadable. "Afternoon," he said, his voice neutra