There was a piece of notebook paper waiting for her tapped against her door when Teuta woke up. A scrap of something used, torn roughly like the person ripping it only had so much left to spare.

She unfolded it quickly, blinking a few times at the message.

Dear Whoever Resides in Apartment 4B,

I must apologize for my lack of manners when it comes to my piano playing. It distracts me and I lose sight of myself in a most shameful manner. I understand that, given your very strong opinion that slip through the wall last night, you are most inconvenienced with it. Sorry. If I had known you felt so passionately, I would have tried to accommodate your quite early sleep schedule sooner.

Please allow me to remediate my mistake over a cup of coffee. This is the least I can do.

Sincerely,

Your (regrettably) Musically Inclined Neighbour in 4A

The young woman snorted, somehow amused with the message. No, she would not give them the satisfaction of a cup of coffee, not when they almost ruined her cup last night, but what she would do is leave them a message in response. It was only right, after all.

Dear My (not regrettably, only ill-timed) Musically Inclined Neighbour in 4A,

Slight correction: I was not trying to sleep last night, and if you really cared, I was battling an awful migraine. I'm not sure if you knew this, but hearing the same piece of classical music so often that it is reverberating in my eardrums long after you stop playing is no balm.

I will also be declining your offer of coffee. It tends to worsen those migraines. All that I ask is that you cut off your playing time to something more reasonable. Five, perhaps?

With the sincerest hope that you shall listen,

Your Neighbour in Apartment 4B

She moved quickly, sliding her note under their door before finding the lifts. She was nearly late for her interview and it would hardly bode well for her to arrive late just because of a neighbourly dispute.

Call it paranoia, but Teuta was almost anxious to see her neighbour's response to her note, and it did not leave her mind all day, a buzzing mosquito as she sped through mindless actions, curiosity plaguing her.

However, just for her own sake, she stopped at Harry & Keith on her way back to her apartment, telling herself that it was just hesitance, not excitement, as she purchased another cup of coffee.

Leeching that warmth and as the caffeine hits her bloodstream, the short-haired girl allowed herself to hurry home, and to her definitely not so great delight, another note awaited her, the same ripped paper as the first time. She opened it with nimble fingers, barely locking her door behind her while she took it in.

Dear My Most Exciting Friend in 4B,

Another apology. Can I suggest tea, in that case? I've seen you taking out the trash. I fear you may run yourself broke with how much cups from Harry & Keith you buy and at the rate you consume it. And that Waltz you speak so poorly about is actually a favourite of mine, so I do take offense.

Maybe you can make it up to with, let's say, a cup of tea? And you should also make up for that absolutely appalling recommendation you made. Five in the evening? Really? What am I expected to do after that?

You are terrible at suggestions.

Your Even More Exciting Friend in 4A

Her face flushed bright red, an inkling of mortification multiplying enough to drown her. She cannot possibly drink that much designer coffee, could she? Although, if you ought to account for that, the Kirin Deli takeout, the Vale la Pena lunches and the odd night out at Paraiso Garage, she will definitively never pay out her student loans.

Teuta clicked her tongue in rage, reaching for a clean piece of paper and wrote her scathing reply. Maybe that will teach them a lesson

My New Friend,

There is a plethora of things to do past the hour of five in the evening. You could clean, or cook, or work. I'm sure you can figure it out. You now have many evenings open just for that, indeed.

And to answer your question, no, I must decline your second offer. I am not in the business of drinking tea with random people I've never met before.

I did not try to suggest anything,

Your Begrudging Friend in 4B

She crept to their door slowly, afraid they might open it and catch her lurking around like a burglar. She slid the paper under the door, then spun and ran back to the safety of her apartment.

Unfortunately, fate had no plans for her attempt at sneakiness to be anywhere near successful, because as Teuta pushed her door open, her shoulder caught on the doorframe. She groaned loudly at the impact, but picked herself up as she heard a chain sliding on her neighbour's door. The floor caught she as she fell into her apartment, slamming the door behind her, then pressing her back up against it.

She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, embarrassment growing by the second, because it is not like they could have missed the scene she just made.

And indeed, a soft chuckle filtered under the gap. It was warm, comforting, distinctly... Male?

"Oh, God…" She muttered to herself.

Does her neighbour think that she had been flirting with him this whole time? No, she would not think about that! It is irrelevant to her present situation. Besides, what was the big deal? She only went in and delivered a note to her neighbour, nothing too shameful about that.

She heard a second laugh, low and almost enticing. Like she would not quite mind finding the source. They, he, that is, must be humouring her, playing a little game with her, all because she pounded on the wall.

Then, another thought flashed through her stupid, stupid mind: What if he wrote back? Because if he wrote back, then he would be tapping a new letter on her door. Or, alternatively, if he were sliding a new letter under her door, he would be sliding a new letter right into her crouched body, blocking said door.

She scrambled up, desperately trying not to make any further noise. And right on time, a piece of her notebook paper passed under the gap, and she bit her lip to stop herself from looking through the peephole, needing to know who Mystery Man was.

He, unsurprisingly, tore off a scrap from her paper, writing something short and sweet on it, with no names or salutations used.

If you wanted so badly to meet me, you could have just said something.