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  As the sun set on an old neighborhood in Cleveland, Ohio, Macleod Harrington was setting down with it. Macleod never paid much mind to the night, as he wakes up far too early to fit in stargazing hours. Not that you could see the stars anyway, in such a well-lit town. The nights in a Cleveland summer were damp, and the skies were clear. The people- in this section of the city, anyhow- were very friendly. Mr. Harrington, as the neighbors called him, took this into consideration when purchasing his two-story home last February.  

The house, which sat on Giles Drive, had a garage with the most magnificent square windows- each small yet characteristic. The abode wasn't quite visible from the road, as it had been shrouded by the leaves and branches of the many trees in the front yard. The wood siding was an eggshell white, and every window was decorated with quite brilliant black shutters. 

The neighborhood in which Mr. Harrington lived, Whispering Pines, was a lovely community with all kinds of different people. Everybody had a great respect for each other, and they were one of the only places in America where you could move in one day, and someone would bring you a basket of fresh-baked cookies the next.

The residents of Whispering Pines never had a problem before Mr. Harrington had moved in, as the old owners- a divorcee man and his three children- kept the yard in neat, pristine shape. In what could be a coincidence, in an ideal case scenario, the yard became a forest of overgrowth after last February.

The biggest debate between Mr. Harrington and his neighbors was that of the cottonwood tree that drooped from his front yard onto the road. Mr. Harrington was well aware of the bother it was, nevertheless, he didn't care. He figured they would stop complaining over time- either that, or Mr. Meckelburg would come over with his shears and do it himself. 

Ladies would often jog by in the afternoon and say, "It's a miracle there hasn't been an accident there yet!" 

The truth is, that's exactly what Mr. Harrington wanted to happen. 


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