The moon hangs in the sky like a giant reminder.

“Oh, right. Werewolves.” I sniffle as howls suddenly ring all across the street.

That explains why my allergies have been acting up, and I feel foolish for not remembering to get more medication so that I can sleep.

The real estate agent warned me when I moved in, and I was confident that my hair allergies wouldn’t apply to the supernatural.

How wrong I was.

Every full moon I have to lock the doors and windows, take my extra-strength antihistamines and pray that the shedding won’t be as bad this time.

The neighbours understood and helped out somewhat, enforcing a river wash every time they shifted and never entering my property line whilst in wolf form.

But unless I have my pills I’m doomed to a swollen face and wheezing lungs even if they are a mile away on a rainy night.

Wolf fur is strong, strong enough that when my parents came for a visit they asked if I had gotten myself a dog.

I almost said ‘yes, a whole pack!’

Why not move? Leave the smelly street behind?

The rent is cheap, that’s why. I don’t have to worry about pests either. The hot neighbours across the street are a bonus.

Yes, well worth laying in the dark with my anti allergen pillow soaked with stinging tears and snot.

“Think of the rent.” I squeak into the darkness as the whole werewolf community frolicks in the light of the moon just outside my sealed windows.