Verified Neighbor
You download Porchlight because somebody keeps taking packages on Alder Court and the HOA group chat has become unlivable.
It wants your address. It wants a photo of a utility bill. It wants to know if you’re a homeowner or a renter, and you lie a little and say homeowner, because renter feels like it’ll get you fewer replies.
Welcome, Verified Neighbor! says the app. A tiny green shield appears next to your name.
You feel, briefly, like a sheriff.
The first week is great.
Lost dog: 0.2 mi. (Found. A beagle named Pistachio. Everybody posts a heart.)
Loud noise reported: 0.4 mi. (Fireworks. It’s always fireworks.)
Package theft: 0.1 mi. (Doorbell clip of a teenager in a hoodie. Forty-one comments. Somebody recognizes the hoodie. Justice is swift and petty and you love it.)
You start checking it on the toilet. You start checking it at red lights.
Tuesday, 11:52 p.m.
Suspicious person: 0.1 mi. Adult male standing in front yard on Alder Ct. Not moving. Has been there 20+ min. Facing the house. Anyone know him?
There’s no photo. Just the blurry pin on the map, three doors down from you.
Dana R. (Verified Neighbor): Probably someone waiting on a ride.
Gus T. (Verified Neighbor): in the rain??
You go to your front window. Rain, streetlights, the Hendersons’ inflatable skeleton slumping in its harness. Nobody standing anywhere.
You go back to bed and refresh until you fall asleep.
Wednesday, 11:49 p.m.
Suspicious person: 0.05 mi. Same guy as last night. Two houses down from the Hendersons. Gray jacket, dark jeans. Just standing. I flashed the porch light and he didn’t react.
You have a gray jacket. Half the men in America have a gray jacket.
Dana R.: Has anyone called the non-emergency line?
Original poster: They said unless he’s doing something there’s nothing to do.
Gus T.: He IS doing something. He’s standing.
You check the window again. Nothing. The skeleton has lost its head.
You check your doorbell camera history. It shows the street, the rain, nobody.
The app says the post was made by a Verified Neighbor on Alder Court. It doesn’t say which one. You tap the name. Profile hidden for safety.
Thursday, 11:47 p.m.
You’re awake for it this time. You’re sitting on the couch in the dark with your phone in your hand, waiting, like it’s a show you’re into.
Suspicious person: 0.01 mi. He’s in front of the blue house now. 18 Alder. Gray jacket, dark jeans, white sneakers, glasses. Hands at his sides. He’s facing the front window.
You live at 18 Alder. Your house is blue.
You look down at your sneakers on the mat. White. You touch your glasses.
You get up and go to the front window, and you’re so sure there’s going to be a man out there that your whole body does it ahead of time, the drop, the cold.
There’s no one on your lawn.
There’s no one on the street.
There is, across the street, at the Pruitts’ house, a light on upstairs, and a shape in the window, and the shape is holding up a phone.
Gus T.: I see him too. From my side it looks like he’s looking IN.
Dana R.: Does anybody actually know who lives at 18?
You type: I live at 18. There’s nobody outside. Whoever’s posting this, please stop.
The app thinks for a second.
Your comment could not be posted. Only Verified Neighbors can comment on safety reports.
You look at your name. The little green shield is gone.
You go to settings. Verification status: Under review. A neighbor has flagged that you may not reside at this address.
11:51 p.m.
Update from original poster: He’s not on the lawn anymore. I can’t see him. Does anyone see him?
Gus T.: No.
Dana R.: No.
Mike P. (Verified Neighbor): Wait. Look at the window. The front window of 18.
Your thumb is shaking. You’re standing in your front window. The lamp behind you is off. The streetlight is on your face.
Across the road, a second window lights up. Then the Hendersons’. Then the house next to the Hendersons’. All up and down Alder Court, curtains are moving.
Dana R.: Oh my god.
Gus T.: He’s INSIDE.
Mike P.: Calling it in for real now.
You step back from the glass. You should feel relief, you think. They’re calling someone. Someone will come and you’ll explain. You’ll show them the utility bill. You’ll show them your mail, your photos, your toothbrush.
You go to the hallway, to the little table where you keep the mail.
There are four envelopes. They’re addressed to 18 Alder Court.
None of them are addressed to you.
Your phone buzzes one last time.
Report resolved. Thank you, Alder Court! The resident of 18 Alder Ct has confirmed he is home, safe, and asleep upstairs. Officers are on the way to remove the intruder.
AI was involved in writing this story.
