The Sticky Note That Quieted Silence

When I moved into my new place, I kept saying I was "fine," which was true—technically.

My apartment was empty, my meals were cereal or peanut butter on a tortilla,

and I fell asleep to true crime videos just to avoid the quiet. The building’s elevator

had been “out of service” forever. One night it broke again, and someone taped

a sign: ELEVATOR OUT OF ORDER (AGAIN). SORRY. On impulse,

I added a sticky note: If you need help with groceries or whatever I’m in 3B – Alex.

I immediately thought, what did I do? But then, the next evening, there was a knock.

An older man, Dieter from the fourth floor, was struggling with groceries.