then, I’d believed Daniel was careless.
Now I understood.
He thought I was harmless.
Margaret from 3B.
The polite older woman.
The neighbor who accepted his packages.
The woman who would keep asking nicely until eventually she became too embarrassed to ask again.
More importantly, I suspected Daniel wanted me angry.
He wanted me pounding on his door.
Shouting.
Threatening.
Then he could tell management about the unstable woman downstairs who’d lost her mind over a few tea bags.
So I didn’t give him that.
I went home.
Made myself tea, which felt appropriately ironic, and sat at my kitchen table.
I decided to give him one final morning.
I Stopped Asking and Started Documenting
At 7:04 the next day, another tea bag landed beside my plants.
I finished my coffee.
Then I got to work.
Before retirement, I’d spent twenty-two years as a records manager for a law
