an easygoing neighbor.
I wasn’t interested in creating tension over something that could easily be fixed.
Then one evening, I was sitting inside when I heard a soft *plop* outside.
Another tea bag.
This one had landed directly on the cushion of my favorite balcony chair.
By the time I picked it up, the fabric was already stained.
That finally pushed me upstairs again.
He opened the door.
“You’re still throwing tea bags onto my balcony,” I said.
He shrugged.
“It’s just tea.”
“It has already ruined a towel. Now my chair cushion is stained.”
Instead of apologizing, he leaned against the doorway.
“Well, you live underneath me. Things fall. That’s part of apartment life.”
“They aren’t falling. You’re throwing them.”
He smiled.
“Look, you should probably be grateful it’s only tea.”
I stared at him.
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“What is that supposed to mean?”
He gave another little laugh.
“Could
