Tristan and Michael wandered to the back to water. Like Michael, Tristan wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt in the crisp morning air. He watched silently as Michael used a metal wand to spin the X-shaped sprinkler fixtures, turning on the water. “It's already late October, so I don't have to do this very often,” he said, nodding his head toward the yard. “I have a gardener who comes weekly to mow and keep things tidy; he does both yards—mine and my mom's.” “Oh,” said Tristan, looking around and spotting a basketball. Michael had a hoop permanently set into the cement on his side of the drive, the area between the two houses a perfect square of cement for a little one-on-one. “I think this is nice,” he said. “A great find, two houses like this together.” “It originally belonged to a set of twins,” said Michael, laughing. “I shit you not, these guys lived next door to each other and raised their families together. It seemed…cool. When I bought it, I thought it would be a great place for me and my mom.”
