no intention of knocking on apartment 4B for a fourth time.
At 7:03, I heard movement above me.
Then his balcony door slid open.
I waited.
A minute later, his hand appeared beyond the railing.
Something small dangled between his fingers.
The tea bag dropped.
But this time, instead of sighing and throwing it away like I had done countless times before, I was prepared.
Because after three polite requests, several stained belongings, and one smug warning to “be grateful,” my upstairs neighbor was finally about to discover why I had spent the previous afternoon getting ready.
