It's the little things

My hands were twitching as I trotted up to a strange house. The shrubbery had been left to grow freely, the unkempt yard scattered with cigarette butts and discarded plastic wrappers. After standing lethargically in the doorway for approximately thirty seconds, I rang the doorbell and took two careful steps backward.
The door slowly opened, and I glanced at the man who opened the door. A casual acquaintance. As I walked through the entrance then quickly recognized everybody in this house. My gaze immediately fell back to this gentleman that opened the door. I felt my pupils dilate as we were locked in a trance that ended much too quickly. His eyes reminded me of a robin's blue eggs I found early one spring morning. I got the chance to watch them hatch later that day, and sheltered their petite bodies from the torrential spring rain. When I brought my friends over to see those tiny hatchlings, there wasn't a single bird in the nest.
So, that's how the story goes. After a brief exchange, he walked me back to the door. I trotted past the untamable shrubs, through the barren yard, and drove back to my inanimate home.