Notes Left on the Doorstep

Notes Left on a Doorstep

Giyu Tomioka lived alone in a modest house in an ordinary neighborhood in a large and forgettable town, and he had arrived at the conclusion that he'd live alone in that modest house in that ordinary neighborhood for the rest of his life. Giyu had many reasons for believing this. He knew moving would be a hassle, he was comfortable where he was, he didn't want to change jobs, he didn't want to leave his friends. They were all valid, honest reasons for staying where he was forever. But none of them was the real reason. The real reason Giyu didn't ever want to move to was far simpler, even primal.

Giyu was afraid.

Truth be told, Giyu was afraid of a lot of things. A LOT of things. He was afraid of spiders. And cockroaches. Of bugs in general. And public toilets. And elevators. And high places. And things covered in holes. And moldy bread. And winding mountain roads. And abandoned buildings. And the hegemonic influence of the U.S. war propaganda machine on the health of developing economies. You get the picture.

But of the many, many things Giyu was afraid of, he was most afraid of people. For Giyu, interacting with people was an acutely distressing experience. People were inclined to judge. People were inclined to demand. People were easy to disappoint. People often failed to understand. Sometimes people were just plain mean.

So Giyu wasn't quite sure how to explain the impulse he felt as he casually peered through his front window at his neighbor's unkempt lawn. Why did he feel compelled to do something he had never thought to do before? What strange, possibly divine force prompted him to take a small, seemingly trivial action that would push him outside the bounds of comfort, that would send his life careening far, far from his meticulously laid plan to live alone forever in his modest house in that ordinary neighborhood in that large and forgettable town?

Of course, Giyu didn't know that last part would happen. But, life would inform him soon enough.

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Dear Neighbor,

Greetings. I hope this note finds you well.

I'd like to bring your attention to the fact that your lawn has not been mowed in approximately three weeks. As a result, it is quite overgrown and rather unsightly. In addition, your yard is bestrewn excessively with rotting foliage. The community's HOA regulations require that all residents keep their lawns properly groomed and clear of all forms of waste, including decaying vegetation. I respectfully request that you tend to the matter promptly. Its continued neglect daily diminishes the appearance of the neighborhood as well as our enjoyment of it.

Regards,

Your neighbor, the one to your left as you exit your front door.

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Fuck off. My yard is fine. Get a life.

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Dear neighbor,

Please kindly note that "fuck you" is neither a useful nor respectful response to a rational and justified request for compliance with HOA rules. Article 15 of the HOA by-laws clearly states that lawns must be kept to a blade height of no more than 2 inches. According to my calculations, your lawn has reached a height of 4-5 inches, which is clearly longer than regulations allow. If you are incapable of mowing your lawn due to physical or mental incapacity, I can refer you to a local landscaper who can tend to your yard for a reasonable rate. If your finances don't permit the employment of a professional landscaper, I recommend asking either a resident teen or retiree to perform the task. I'm certain either would oblige for a nominal fee.

Regards,

Your neighbor to the left as you exit your front door

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