The next turn he made would bring the Benson's lawn right into focus. The street was neat, partially lightened and complete with glistening white picket fences. Gone were the pesty little children of the early morning.

"Damn pesty kids", Smith swore, picking a few stray flowers by the edge of Mrs Benson's well tended garden.
He would fix her drain pipe. Just that.
He gave a few knocks on the door. Reverberating sounds that demanded attention, you could tell he was impatient, by the sounds of shuffling feet. Smith placed his cheek on the front door, lessening his grip on Mrs Benson's fragile brain child, he would know when she got to the door.
He would smell her.
"Evening Smith" She said, sticking out her geriatric face through the partially opened door.
"Hello Ma'm". He resorted to giving her the intense look, maintaining the eye contact until she blushed, eyes finding the assorted flowers he'd picked.
Smith watched her, plain gloss smeared on her lips. Then stood behind her, following her lead as soon as she shut the door.

Taking in lungfuls of air, the smell of talcum powder nearly overpowered him.
"I would need those tools Ma'm". He pocketed his hands, resting his back on the kitchen cabinet while she rushed to get the rudimentary plumbing tools.
Oh, Smith, I have told you many times, he made to collect the tools "You can call me Samantha".

The words it seemed, were catalysed by too much talcum powder. It was disgusting, he thought, she was downright flirting with him. Making googly eyes at the dinner table while she watched him fix whatever it was that clogged her sink.

Tightening his hold on the nearest handy tool, smith made his decision.
"Samantha, sorry to bother, would you help with this". Dropping the knitting pins like a woman hypnotized, he watched her come towards him, wafting more talcum powder as she passed by.
Smith hid the jumbo wrench, wondering just how well the talcum would mix with his formaldehyde.