Mrs Williams was sitting at her kitchen table while drinking a cop of coffee. She was gazing out the window on the next door house.

She lived on a particulary boring street, mostly old people like herself lived there. It was a calm road, rows of nice (and boring) houses on both sides. Her own house was red; the next door house she was gazing on was yellow.

No one lived in the yellow house. Yet, anyway. The lawn was unkept and the yellow paint had started to peel off. But one of her neighbours had recently told her that a family was about to move in there today. She'd heard that the family had children. That will be a nice change, she thought.

About five minuets later, when the cup of coffee was almost empty, she saw a car on the empty house's driveway. It was a red, quite old car, and the windows were darked toned, so you couldn't see the people in the car.

She straightened up when the car's doors opened.

The one who'd been driving was a tall man, probably in his mid-thirties. He had brown hair, was quite lanky, and wore a blue jumper and brown trousers. He looked like he would fit in on the street, and mrs Williams nodded to herself in approval.

The woman, who'd stepped out from the other side of the car, was quite the opposite.

Her hair was a bright pink with purple highlights, and mrs Williams saw before her mind's eye how many of the neighbours would shake their heads and scold about it. The woman's clothes were no better. She was wearing ripped jeans, a multi-colored t-shirt and a leather jacket. The woman walked around the car to open the back door and help a six-year-old boy out. The boy had brown hair with turqouise highlights, and mrs Williams couldn't help but chuckle. This was going to be very interesting.