Gilman always jogged down this particular street a short ways into his run. Enough to be a little sweaty, but not so much that stopping would ruin his rhythm. It was easy enough to warm up again after a quick chat to Dahlia Palmer, who wore a lot of low cut tops and couldn't see him looking right down. She had a decent pair. They weren't always on display, but it was a rare opportunity to get a serious oggle, or even peek into her house without her being aware.
Gilman didn't do that too often, though. Jeanie was usually playing in the yard and she had asked him what he was doing, once. Fucking kid.
As he rounded the corner, he was just in time to see Dahlia's groceries go spilling, the pickle jar smashing, and unlike most people, Gilman grinned.
"Hey, just hold on!" Gilman shouted from down the block, picking up his pace a little. He'd always wanted to see inside her place completely. And there were definitely no straps on that dress, "It's Gilman!"
Once he was closer he briefly touched her bare shoulder so she'd know where he was, "I'm right here. I'm gonna pick up your groceries, okay? If you go around behind me you can avoid any glass and get to your door."
Gilman picked up the shards of the pickle jar (and the poor spoiled pickles) and moved them to the bin on the curb before he returned to the other groceries and gathered them up as best he could.
"I have just about everything," he announced, looking towards Dahlia to see if she'd heard.