A Small Town Called Greendale Street

When I moved to my house, it was a mess. the floors were pale, the walls were stale, the pool was frozen, there was a dead possum in it. We hired a guy to fix the floors. When he was done, we painted the walls. Then after that, the house was perfect, a little shelter for us to stay in. As the days went on, the house stayed strong. Our poor dog died, and then we cried. Across the street there was a kid, I hung out with him in my home. The house was good. The best part was, my family and my friends.