Chapter One
The smiley-faced alarm clock grinned at her like it knew something she didn’t, and Savannah glared back as the second hand bounced around its perky little circle. Sleep? Ha. That ship had sailed hours ago. But the headache? And the stomach doing gymnastics? Those had settled in for the long haul and were clearly committed to the relationship.
And then there were the cannons.
Mr. Johannsson had moved in next door sometime during the Reagan administration, back when his ears still worked. Now, at ninety-three, he shuffled to the mailbox each morning with a smile and a wave, pausing to compliment Mrs. Chen’s begonias and slip candy to the Martinez kids. Sweet as could be—until nightfall.
Every night at precisely 9, he removed his hearing aids, set them carefully on his nightstand, and cranked his record player to full blast. Then Tchaikovsky began its assault.
The cannons fired.
Her coffee mug trembled.
A car alarm outside joined the chaos.
Savannah had tried everything—banging on the wall with her hand, then her shoe, even her textbook. But Mr. Johannsson, blissfully deaf, slept right through it all.
Come morning, those hearing aids would slide back into his ears and he’d hear every word. But by then she’d be too exhausted to complain, or too guilty to ruin his day.
“Aging is not for the faint of heart, Savannah,” her dad used to say while pushing his reading glasses up his large Scandinavian nose.
Right now, though, she’d trade her working ears for his selective deafness in a heartbeat.
The Excedrin and Tums sat in her medicine cabinet, which felt about twenty miles away—through soft sand, uphill both ways. Fine, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but the point still stood.
She flopped onto her side and mentally scribbled a list:
“Things That Make Life Easier.”
Number one: a well-trained dog.
Number two: a considerate spouse.
Number three: a neighbor who didn’t reenact the War of 1812 every single night.
Savannah yanked the white, feather-filled comforter over her head like a turtle retreating into its shell. She shoved her earbuds in and inhaled the lavender spray she’d impulse-bought at Target last week. The bottle had promised “Deep Sleep & Sweet Dreams.” She wondered if they gave refunds on broken promises.
She didn’t know it yet, but sleepless nights and cannon fire would soon be the least of her problems.
Because I Chose You – Coming early Fall 2026
Pam Torres | Author 