For eleven years I lived peacefully in my apartment, believing good neighbors solved problems with patience. Every morning and evening a used tea bag landed on my balcony. At first I assumed it was accidental, so I quietly threw each one away. Then another stained a white towel drying outside, leaving a brown ring that never disappeared. My kindness slowly turned into frustration, yet I still hoped a simple conversation would restore the peaceful routine.
I climbed upstairs and knocked on Greg’s door. He apologized immediately and blamed sleepy mornings, promising never to do it again. I believed him until another tea bag landed the very next morning. Weeks passed, stains multiplied, and his attitude changed from embarrassed to dismissive. When Greg shrugged and said, “Be glad it’s tea,” I realized the real problem was no longer the mess but his complete lack of respect.
