Insignificant (Short Story‪)‬

The October sun shines down on you, your house, and your yard. Inside, your wife is making sandwiches. Birds chirp in the sapling oak tree at the edge of the lawn and a gray squirrel collects acorns beneath the tree's small branches. Across the street, your neighbors' children are laughing and riding their training-wheeled bikes in their driveway. Your navy blue kayak lies in the freshly-cut grass of the sideyard. You smile to yourself, satisfied, and continue attaching the boat rack to the top of your minivan. You hear the thump of the bass and know who it is even before you see Aaron's Jeep come into view. Here we go, you think, shaking your head. You finish with the racks just as a black Jeep with the doors off turns onto your street. Two multi-colored kayaks are tied on top of the roll bars, two sunglass-clad college kids sit inside, and the radio blasts "Fuck the Police" by N.W.A. The children stop playing and watch the spectacle. Before you can stop him, Aaron drives through the ditch and parks in your front yard. He turns off the Jeep, but leaves the radio on.