Warren Buffett's Neighborhood

“I’m telling you, this is Warren Buffet’s neighborhood.” Drew gestured to the view beyond the windshield.

Kyle sat back and stared at the row of suburban houses and wondered where Omaha had gone. Sure, this wasn’t downtown, but this wasn’t really the suburbs either. If he glanced over his shoulder, he could see the rush and zoom of cars on Dodge, which was the city’s main artery, but when he looked forward, it was as if he were staring into a whole new world.

And a whole new world it was, with dozens of little gingerbread houses topping fairy-tale adorable lawns. Each lawn was perfectly manicured and dotted with patches of flowery color that resembled carelessly-strewn candy. There was something uncanny to the overly-sharp slope of the roofs and the too-bright flowers in the trees that made Kyle wonder if he’d stepped into Wonderland. The faux-tudor finish in the front was kitschy and unsettling, and any moment a little dwarf with a pointed cap and a shovel was going to come a-whistling out the front door to the tune of “hi-ho, it’s off to work we go.”

“If I ever pay off my student loans, I’d totally love to buy a house here,” Drew said. “And not just because super-man Buffett lives here. It’d be a great place to raise kids, right?”

Kyle cast Drew a glance askance. “To raise kids. Sure.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

The woman who’d crawled out of Kyle’s bed this morning before he woke was pretty sure.

“All right.” Drew revved the car. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the Dundee Dell - they’ve got great imports on tap as well as seriously good food. You’ll like Omaha - you’ll see.”