The old man had lived at the end of the road in the three story Italian villa all his life. Many have dubbed him the eremite; a religious recluse who orders his world as he pleases inside the walls of his private estate.

In Katray’s thirteen years as a neighboring resident, she’d not gotten so much as a glimpse of him. Today, she would rectify the situation and soothe her curiosity hinged to her recent confusing dreams. She embarked from her moderate home nestled at the mouth of the road, and clutched a plate of lemon bars. She intended to introduce herself, hand him the fresh bake goodies, and study the old man with a long ample gaze. He would have to take the lead from there.