I Carried My Elderly Neighbor down Nine Flights During a Fire – Two Days Later, a Man Showed Up at My Door and Said, ‘You Did It on Purpose!’

“I’ve been cooking since before your father was born,” she said. “Sit down before I assign you an essay.”

We ate simple pasta and bread.

It tasted better than anything I’ve made in months. At one point, Nick looked between us.

“So,” he said, “are we, like, actually family now?”

Mrs. Lawrence tilted her head.

“Do you promise to let me correct your grammar forever?”

He groaned. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Then yes,” she said.

“We’re family.”

He smiled and went back to his plate.

There’s still a dent in her doorframe from her son’s fist. The elevator still groans. The hallway still smells like burnt toast.

But when I hear Nick laughing in her apartment, or she knocks to drop off a slice of pie, the silence doesn’t feel so heavy.

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