CHELSEA FINISHES UNPACKING the last of her things and sets them in neat, ordered rows inside her closet. Even though it's been well over a month since she's moved into her new home, she's put off the task of actually settling in.

But she's allowed to be unsettled. For a while at least.

Grabbing the torn plastic black bags, she straightens from her crouched position, much to the protest of her joints, and heads outside. The neighbourhood she now occupies is small and cute. A surplus of trees surrounds the area giving it a tranquil air.

There's a cherry blossom tree in her front yard, planted generations ago by previous residents. A swing is attached to one of the branches, swaying gently in the breeze. Although Chelsea never met the tenants that came before her, she likes to imagine that a family used to live here. A little girl with her mom and dad, maybe even a younger brother. It's a sweet fantasy.

For the most part, her new neighbourhood is quiet. During the day at least. When night falls, her lawn and the one beside that is illuminated in a colourful array of blues and pinks. A palpable energy infiltrates the air and a series of cars pull up against the curb.

All for the party next door.

Chelsea herself has never attended such a gathering, more preoccupied with the assignment her professor's set. One thing she does learn (that isn't college related) is that the person behind the parties is a young guy, probably just out of school and exercising his freedom.

Funnily enough, she never sees him venture beyond the driveway. The party always seems to come to him. That and a plethora of women, each one different. After a while of catching more than a few of them tiptoeing out with their shoes in their hands, Chelsea deduced that her neighbour was a womaniser. On one occasion she saw him tossing what looked like a used condom carelessly into the trash. He'd missed. It's probably still there to this day.

Her own trash consists of the black bags she's dumped and just as she's closing the lid, she hears the sound of an engine approaching and slowly turning off. She doesn't even have to turn around to see who it is.

Though she doesn't know the name of the visitor, she's caught enough glimpses of him to know that he has some sort of relationship with her neighbour. Sometimes he would be on his phone, other times he would take a glance back at his car before heading inside. Every time, he comes out in a storm. Their arguments are often loud but Chelsea respects their privacy, trying to block out the raised voices. Sometimes, it's not so easy.

Since she's outside this time, she sees the irritated expression on the guy's face once he comes out. For a second his eyes lock onto hers before swiftly moving past. Chelsea always wonders what the nature of their arguments are. Why the guy always comes back. Why he leaves with a scowl.

She concludes that it's none of her business and turns her back, hearing the slam of a car door and screeching tyres.