I’d met all my neighbors, at least I thought I had, and they all seemed like nice, normal people. But most of them were significantly older than I was and I hadn’t become really friendly with anyone in the past couple of weeks. Certainly not “give me a random decoration” friendly. And I didn’t think anyone at my new office even knew where I was living since I had moved out of the company’s extended stay rooms. Maybe Carol in HR might, but she was hardly ever around in the first place, and I didn’t see her trekking out here to stick a weird snowman in my yard.

Because that was the other thing. The snowman was a little weird. It didn’t look weathered or dirty, but it did look old. Like an authentic prop from a Christmas movie set in the 50s. If someone was going to give me a Christmas decoration, why would they pick something like this? And why would you just randomly stick it in the yard rather than on the porch with a note or something? I didn’t have any answers to any of this, and was too tired to care beyond a certain degree of curiosity, so I patted the snowman on its head and went inside to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, there were two reindeer closer in to the house.

The snowman was still there, but now he was turned facing the house and seemed a few feet closer as well. And nearer still were the two plastic reindeer that had the same old but well-preserved look as the snowman. They were also turned toward the house as though part of some mass Christmas exodus across the lawn toward my front door.

I was running late for work, so I only had time to snap a picture with my phone and jump in my car. I sent the picture to my sister and asked her what she thought. As I expected, her response was basically that it was fucking awesome and I should keep her updated if “they” kept adding more cool shit to the yard. The fact that “they” were trespassing and that it was rarely a good sign when mystery people started weirdly fixating on you seemed to escape her.

Still, maybe she had a point. Maybe it was a practical joker neighbor with a twisted sense of humor trying to welcome me to the street. Or maybe I had a work acquaintance with too much time on their hands. Maybe Carol was never at work because she was roaming the streets in a panel van filled with antique decorations, scouting out yards for her next guerilla art exhibition.

Or maybe a dangerous nutjob had taken an interest in me.