Number Seventeen

Whoosh.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
The stress ball flew in in the air as I lay on my back continuously propelling it in the air.
Clunk.
It fell to the ground as I sat up. I blankly looked out the window. The usual 'Number Sixteen' plastered across the mailbox in front of the house. You may think sixteen is a typical number for a mailbox, however you stand corrected. Sixteen is quite an odd number. You see, all the evens are one side of the street and the odds on the other. Number Sixteen defies this as well as Seventeen. They swapped spots, so Sixteen is on the odd side and Seventeen is on the even.
Everyone is always moving out of Seventeen. No one seems to stick. We've had the Cornell family (who kept the lawn perfectly trimmed at all times), the Durham family (who possessed seven cats), the Webber family (who we never came out of the house), the Cox family (who were Harry Potter mega fans), and the Gray family AKA my family. Seventeen just wasn't meant to be, except for the Schimidts.