39: The Man Next door.

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I haven't left my apartment in months. The days go on and on and nothing changes. Nothing happens, everyday is the same as the next. It's monotonous. There's only one little thing that keeps me sane.

It's the friendly little girl who lives next door. Sometimes she comes over to play with me. Her mother came home early from work today, so I told her to leave. I listened at my door and overheard their conversation.

"Where were you?" Her mother asked.

"I was playing with the man who lives next door," the girl replied.

"I told you not to tell lies," her mother snapped.

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