neighbors in Romance

The first time I saw him, he was moving a hideous velvet couch into 7B, and it was blocking my door to 7A.

The bell above my door chimed, but I didn't look up from the funeral arrangement I was wrestling into submission. White lilies—always white lilies—and they were being stubborn bastards today.

The rain was a percussion section against the cobblestones of Maple Street, a steady rhythm that had chased away the evening’s customers. Leo watched it from the doorway of his bookstore, *The Las...