Rain fell down on Laura's new house. It was tucked away in a nice, quiet suburb in a nice quiet Washington town. Her mother stuffed her hands with heavy boxes.
"Mom, do we have to do this right now? Our stuff might get soaked." Laura said, quietly.
"Yes, Franklin, we have to do this now. We have to return the truck in the morning or they'll charge us a fee." Her mother piled more boxes into her arms.
"Oh. Okay." She started to head toward the house and then turned back around. "Um, mom, I've asked you not to call me Franklin". She tried to peak over the boxes of clothes and porcelain figurines to gage her mother's reaction.
"Oh, well, you know it's hard to remember. A few slip ups are bound to happen. It's not that big of a deal, son."
"But you never even try..."
"Hurry up and get those inside."
"Okay."
Laura made her way to the house. She found empty space on the floor of the living room and set the heavy load down. "She never bothers. She remembers. I know she remembers, she just doesn't care."
Across the street a neighbor flung open his door,umbrella in hand.
"Hello there, neighbor!" He shouted as he crossed the street to meet Laura's mother. Laura steped out to the porch and watched them. "I'm Charles! Charles Getz!" He said, excitedly shaking Laura's mother's hand. Charles was a tall, stout man, with big bright eyes, and a wooly, thick beard.
"Hello Charles. I'm Dianne. Diane Morrison. So nice to meet you." Laura's mother said, forcing a smile. "You're the first neighbor to come out and greet us."
"Oh! Am I? Well. the people on this street aren't the most out going people. It's usually up to me to meet new folks." He chuckled with a booming laugh. He noticed Laura standing on the porch. "And who is this strapping, young lad?"
"Oh. That's my son, Franklin." Dianne gestured for Laura to join them. Laura made her way down the walk way, the rain splashing down on her worn down men's jacket. "Franklin this is Charles Getz."
Charles stuck out his giant hand. "Nice to meet you son!"
"Nice to meet you, sir." Laura reached out her hand and Charles shook it firmly. It didn't hurt as much as she expected a handshake from him would.
"The pleasure's all mine! What's a fine young man like you up to these days? Huh? Running around with girls? Getting into trouble, huh?" He lets out another boom of laugher.
Laura laughs a little. "Not really. Mostly just , it was school. I'm on a bit of a break now."
"Oh?"
Dianne chimed in. "Yes! Franklin was at college, studying art."
"An artist, eh?!"
"Yes," Laura said with a slight smile. "I am."
"Are you a painter?" Charles says with a warm grin.
"Yes."
"So, will I find some of your work in this truck."
Laura laughed. "Yes."
"I'll take 'em!"Charles exclaimed.
"But you haven't seen them. They might suck."
"I think art is worth a risk!" He chuckled. "Well, it was nice meeting you Franklin. Mrs. Morrison, it was lovely meeting you too." He waved to them both and started off across the street, when he stopped and turned back to Laura and her mother and shouted back "Oh! I forgot! There's a bit of a little neighborhood get together at my house tomorrow night at seven! Come on over and we can get you acquainted with the shyer members of our little street!"
"We'd love to!" Dianne shouted back.
"Good! See you then!" Shouted Charles as he turned back toward his house and headed in.
Laura let out a sigh. "You introduced me as Franklin."
"Did I? I'm sorry."
"No you're not." Laura said under her breath.
"Here take these inside." Dianne said, handing Laura a couple of paintings, wrapped up in bubble-wrap.
"Okay." She made her way toward the house. "How hard is it to remember?..."

Later that night Laura laid on her mattress, listening to the rain hit her window and staring at her unassembled bed frame. She rolled over and reached into one of the dozen-plus boxes that littered her new room. She pulled out shirts and pants and tossed them onto the ground until she pulled out a light blue sundress. She laid it on herself and imagined wearing it. Wearing it out on some bright and sunny day in the park.
Suddenly, a sound pulled her out of her dream. A sort of mechanical wheeze, coming from next door. Laura set the dress down on her mattress and moved to the window. She looked out at her neighbor's fence and saw a man trying to climb over it. He clumsily rocked his way over the top of the fence on his belly and toppled over and landed face first into the wet grass. The man jumped to his feet.
Laura watched him jog into the dark of the night, his tweed jacket swaying with the wind.