De hoer naast de deur, buurmeisje 18

In the quiet suburb of Willow Creek, where the houses stood tall and the lawns were meticulously

manicured, there lived a man named Charles. At fifty-five, Charles had seen more than his

fair share of life's twists and turns. His hair had grayed at the temples, and his face bore the

lines of a man who had laughed hard and lived well, but also one who had felt the sting of

heartache and loss. Recently divorced, he found solace in the simple routines that filled his