The New Neighbor

Emma was making tea when she heard the unmistakable scrape of boxes being dragged along the corridor outside. The flat next door had been empty for weeks, and she wondered whether the new tenant had finally arrived. A few minutes later, curiosity got the better of her, and she opened her front door to find a parcel standing alone on the mat.

The building number was right, but the name on the label was not hers. It read “Mr Patel, Flat 3B”, whereas she lived in 3A. She could have left the parcel where it was, but the window at the end of the corridor had been left open and rain was blowing in across the floor. Leaving a stranger’s parcel to get soaked did not seem like a sensible way to start any relationship.

She carried it to the next door and knocked. A man opened it with a cup of tea in his hand, surrounded by suitcases, books and a number of boxes that clearly had not yet been unpacked. “I think this belongs to you,” Emma said, smiling. He looked so relieved that she suspected he had been wondering where it had gone.

Mr Patel thanked her warmly and explained that he had moved in that morning. The parcel contained a desk lamp, which he urgently needed because the living room had almost no light. He asked where he could buy food nearby, and Emma showed him the supermarket on a map, warning him that it closed early on Sundays. They had not known each other for more than five minutes, yet the exchange already felt easy.

They chatted for a moment longer before Emma went back to her tea, which had by then gone cold. That evening, someone knocked on her door. It was Mr Patel, holding a small bag of biscuits as a thank-you. Emma invited him in for a fresh cup of tea. Nobody had planned any of it, but the delivery error had turned into a friendly introduction in the best possible way.