I Went to Return My Neighbor’s Pliers – When He Opened the Door, My Legs Gave Out and I Shouted, ‘What Does It All Mean?!’

But I was desperate, so I did something I’ve never done before: I posted in the building chat.

“Hi, it’s Simone! Is anyone awake and familiar with plumbing? I have a leak and it’s getting worse.”

I wasn’t expecting a reply.

But when my phone buzzed a few minutes later, I saw that Jake from the second floor had replied.

“I can come up, Simone. No worries. What number are you again?”

Jake.

He was the neighbor I’d seen maybe four or five times in the elevator.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his expression unreadable. He was the kind of man who always wore long sleeves, even in heatwaves. I couldn’t recall if we’d ever spoken before.

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