← All confessions · First Time 2026-10-06

A Note Under the Door

A note slid under her door from the flat next door. She was ready to move out. Then she read it.

How it started

My building has walls so thin I can hear my neighbour's microwave beep. I'd been careful, very careful, with music on and pillows strategically placed, but apparently not careful enough. One Saturday morning I found a folded note slid under my door. My stomach dropped. I imagined the worst: a complaint, a polite but firm request, possibly a petition. I made coffee before I could bring myself to read it. I unfolded it slowly. It said, in neat handwriting: 'Which one is it? Asking for me.' I'd spent the night before replaying every sound I'd ever made in that flat. By breakfast I'd half-planned a new address.

Then it happened

I wrote the brand and model on the back of the note and slid it under her door that afternoon. A week later there was a little potted plant on my doorstep with a thank-you card. We wave at each other in the hallway now like co-conspirators, and we've never once spoken about it out loud. Last month she knocked to borrow sugar and whispered, 'Still worth it.'

The morning after

The two neighbours now share a knowing smile in the hallway and a running joke nobody else understands. The building manager thinks they're old friends. Last week a second note appeared under her door: 'Upgraded. Thank you.'