I hadn't been to the library in 2 years. I finally went back to return a book that was... very, very late. The librarian scanned it and said, "This was due 18 months ago. The fine is $42." I said, "Oh." I was ready to just pay and be embarrassed forever. She looked at the book, then at me, and whispered, "You know what, this book has been waiting for you to finish it. Did you like the ending?" I said, "I never finished it, I lost it under my bed." She stamped something and said, "Then take it again. No charge if you promise to actually finish it and tell me what you think. I'm the only one who read it here." I said, "You are waiving my fine for a book review?" She said, "I'm waiving it because someone needs to talk to me about this book. It broke my heart and no one else has checked it out in 3 years." I took it home, read it in two days, went back. I told her I cried on page 212. She said, "I know, I did too. Now you owe me $42 worth of talking about it over coffee." I still owe her about $30 worth of talking.

I was cleaning out my drawer and found my old phone from three years ago. It still turned on. I opened the messages and went to my best friend's chat. We were inseparable in school. Then she moved to another city and we slowly stopped talking. Not because we fought, just life. In the drafts folder, there were like 15 messages I typed but never sent. All from the first few months after she left. "Did you make new friends yet? I hope they know you're funny." "I saw someone who looked like you today and almost shouted your name." "I miss us already, is that stupid? It's only been a month." "Don't forget me okay?" I never sent them because I thought I would sound clingy. I thought she had moved on. I stared at them for a long time, then I copied the last one and sent it to her on my new phone. I wrote: "Found this draft from 3 years ago on my old phone. It's still true. Don't forget me okay? - from 3 years ago me" She replied in less than two minutes. She said: "Are you kidding me? I have the exact same drafts for you. I wrote 'do you think she still thinks about me?' and never sent it because I thought you were busy and happy without me." We video called that night. For four hours. We cried, we laughed, we showed each other our rooms. It was like no time had passed. Now we send every draft. No matter how dumb it sounds.

I found a playlist my ex and I made together 2 years ago. It was called "For The Road." We made it for a road trip we never actually took because we broke up a week before. I was scared to press play, but I did while cleaning my room. First song: our favorite. Second song: the one we screamed in the car. Third song: the one he said reminded him of me. I expected to cry. I didn't. I just sang. Loud. Out of tune. By song 8, I was dancing with my broom. At song 12, the last song, I realized I couldn't remember his voice anymore. I could remember the songs, but not how he laughed when this song came on. And that made me a little sad, but also kind of relieved. Like my brain had made space. I renamed the playlist "For Cleaning" and kept it. Same songs, different road.

I set an out-of-office email that said: "I'm on vacation, limited access, will reply next week!" I forgot I also set the same auto-reply on my personal email, my work chat, AND my messages. My friend texted: "Are you free to help me move?" Auto-reply: "I'm on vacation, limited access!" She texted: "Girl, you're literally posting on Instagram at home." Auto-reply: "I'm on vacation, limited access!" She called me and said, "Are you being kidnapped by your own vacation?" I couldn't figure out how to turn it off for 2 days. Every person who texted me got "I'm on vacation." My mom texted: "Did you eat?" Reply: "I'm on vacation, limited access!" My mom replied: "Vacation from eating? Come home." I finally turned it off and had to send 23 personal apologies. Now my friends call me Vacation Girl even when I'm sitting right next to them.

It was raining so hard I couldn't go out. I had no clean socks. So I did laundry and decided to dry everything on chairs and doors because I don't have a dryer. My apartment looked ridiculous. Socks on doorknobs, shirts on kitchen chairs, towel on the fridge. My friend video called me and said, "Are you... okay? It looks like your clothes exploded." I said, "It's my new decoration style. It's called Broke & Raining." She said, "It looks cozy actually." And it did. The rain was hitting the windows, my clothes were everywhere, smelling like soap, and I made hot chocolate and sat in the middle of it all. For once my messy apartment felt intentional. Like a fort. I took a photo. It's still my wallpaper. Socks and all.

My alarm went off at 3:14 AM. I never set an alarm for 3:14 AM. I turned it off, half asleep, and went back to sleep. Next night, 3:14 AM again. I checked my phone no alarm set for that time. Deleted all alarms. Still rang. Third night, 3:14 AM again. I was now fully awake and annoyed. I checked my old tablet, my laptop, my watch nothing. On the fourth night I stayed awake until 3:14. At 3:13, I heard a faint beeping from my closet. Inside my closet, in a winter coat I hadn't worn in months, was an old alarm clock I thought I lost. Its alarm was still set from last winter when I had early shifts. Battery was almost dead so the time was wrong, but it was still trying to ring at what it thought was 6am. It was 3:14 AM to me, 6:00 AM to it. I turned it off and said, "Thank you for your service, you're fired." It never rang again. But I still wake up at 3:14 sometimes, just out of habit.

I went to the bakery at 8am every Saturday for a chocolate muffin. There was always one guy ahead of me who ordered the last chocolate muffin. Every. Single. Saturday. After the 4th Saturday, I said, "Do you come here just to steal my muffin?" He said, "No, I come here because I like chocolate muffins. Do you come here to accuse people?" We both laughed. The baker said, "I only make 2 chocolate muffins. You two need to figure this out." Next Saturday I came 10 minutes earlier. He was already there. He bought both muffins and gave me one. He said, "Truce? I was tired of fighting you." I said, "You bought MY muffin to give it to me?" He said, "I bought OUR muffins. So we can sit and eat without fighting over them." We sat outside. He told me his name was Liam and he works nights so Saturday morning is his Friday night. Now we have a standing reservation. The baker makes 3 chocolate muffins now. Two for us, one extra just in case we bring a friend. We haven't needed the third one yet.

How can you cut the water pipe supplying your home, and somehow still expect to get 0.15% drop of water? If anything, vasectomy should be the most effective contraceptive method by a mile when compared to others.

I lost my house key. Searched everywhere. Tore my whole bag apart. I was locked out, sitting on the hallway floor, about to call a locksmith I could not afford. A kid from down the hall walked past with his mom. He looked at me and said, "Are you locked out?" I said, "Yeah, I lost my key." He reached into his tiny toy backpack and pulled out... my key. With my little blue keychain. He said, "I found it by the stairs! I thought it was treasure so I kept it!" His mom was mortified. She said, "Leo! You have to give it back! We talked about this!" He handed it to me so seriously, like he was giving up actual pirate gold. He said, "You can have it, but do I get a reward? Like in the movies?" I had nothing in my pockets except a granola bar and $2. I gave him the granola bar and said, "You are officially the treasure keeper of this floor." He ran away so happy, holding the granola bar like a trophy. His mom whispered, "He has been carrying that key around for two days waiting to find the owner. He made me walk the stairs 5 times looking for someone locked out." I was not the one who found treasure that day. He was. Now every time he sees me, he checks the floor for more treasure for me.

In the shared office, there was a guy who typed SO LOUD. Like angry typing. Everyone could hear his space bar from 3 desks away. We all complained silently in our own chats. One day I had enough and left a note on his desk while he was gone: "Your keyboard is very passionate. - Your neighbors" I thought he'd be offended. Next morning, there was a note on MY desk: "Sorry, I learned to type on a typewriter. My grandma taught me. I don't know how to type quietly. - Loud Typist" I felt so bad instantly. I wrote back: "Wait that's actually cool. Can you teach me? My typing is slow." He came over that afternoon with his old typewriter — an actual heavy metal typewriter — and let me try it. It was SO loud and SO satisfying. Every click was a _CLACK_. He said, "See? Now you get why I type like this." Now whenever he types loud, no one is annoyed. We just say, "Grandma's typing again." And I type a little louder too, on purpose.

My dryer shrunk my favorite hoodie. It was unwearable, like a crop top now. I was complaining about it in the group chat and my friend said, "Give it to me, I'm smaller than you." So I gave it to her. She wore it and sent a pic: "Perfect fit!" Next week, she shrunk it again by accident. Now it was too small even for her. She said, "Okay now it's cursed, I gave it to my little brother." Her little brother wore it once, then his dog chewed the sleeve. He said, "Now it's art." He gave it to his friend who cut off the chewed sleeve and made it a one-sleeve hoodie as a joke. That friend posted it and someone said, "Yo that's drip" and asked to buy it. We sold a twice-shrunk, dog-chewed, one-sleeved hoodie for $15. We split the money and bought ice cream. That hoodie has lived 5 lives. It's more successful than me.

I waved at someone I thought I knew. Big smile, full arm wave. He did not know me. He looked behind him, confused, then did a tiny awkward wave back out of pity. I wanted to disappear. I quickly pretended I was waving at someone behind him, but there was no one behind him. Just a wall. I walked away fast and hid in the break room. Five minutes later, he walked into the break room. Of course. The same guy. He said, "Hey, wall-wave girl." I said, "Oh no. You saw that." He said, "Yeah. I do that at least once a week. Last week I said 'hey' to a mannequin. So we're even." I laughed so hard. He poured his coffee and said, "To make it less awkward, I'll pretend we know each other now. What's your name? Wall-wave girl?" I said, "It's Mara." He said, "Cool, I'm wall wave boy. Ben. We met at the wall." Now every time we see each other, we do the same exaggerated wall wave. Big, dramatic, to no one. People think we're weird. We are. But we know each other now, so the wave isn't wrong anymore.

My neighbor leaves her plants outside her door to get sun. One day, she was out of town and texted the group chat: "Can someone water my monstera by my door? Just a little water every day please!" I said, "I got you." For 5 days, I watered it. Very responsibly. I even talked to it. She came back and knocked on my door holding the plant, looking confused. She said, "I love your dedication, but... this isn't my plant. Mine was right here, this is my other neighbor's dying plant from across the hall. Mine was in my apartment. I meant the one INSIDE by my door, like by my balcony door inside." I had been lovingly watering a random plant that wasn't even hers. A plant that was already half-dead. She said, "You actually brought it back to life. It was brown when I left." We went across the hall and knocked. The guy opened and said, "Did my plant... get greener? I thought I was imagining it." I said, "Surprise. I've been stealing your plant care duties." He said, "Please keep stealing. I kill everything." Now I have a key to his hallway corner just to water a plant that is technically not mine, but also kind of is mine now. It's called Kevin. Kevin is thriving. And my neighbor? She says Kevin owes me his life.

I was eating alone at a fast food place, minding my business with my fries. A little kid from the next table walked over, grabbed one fry from my tray, and ran back to his mom. I was shocked. His mom was SO embarrassed. She said, "OMG I'm so sorry! Ethan! You can't do that!" The kid looked like he was about to cry. I said, "It's okay, he can have fries. I have too many anyway." I pushed my tray a little toward their table. The mom said, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yeah, unless he's going to take my burger too, then we have to negotiate." The kid giggled and came back, took another fry, but this time he brought me one of his chicken nuggets as a trade. Put it on my tray very seriously. We traded fries for nuggets for like 10 minutes. Full silent business deal. His mom said, "He never shares food. I'm actually stunned." When they left, the kid waved and said, "Bye fry friend!" His mom mouthed "thank you" and I said, "Tell the CEO of nuggets I said bye." Best lunch I've had in months.

We had a group chat: me, Daniel, Priya, and one guy named Alex who never spoke. Not once. We sent "hello?" "bro?" "are you alive?" Nothing. We named him Ghost and just did his part of the work while complaining about him every day for three weeks. On presentation day, a guy walks in with a stack of printed slides, a box of donuts, and says, "Hey, I'm Alex, sorry I'm late." We stared at him. Priya said, "Dude, where have you been? We've been doing your slides!" He looked confused and said, "What do you mean? I've been in the group chat, no one was replying to me. I thought you guys were ignoring me." He showed his phone. He was in a different group chat. Also called "Project B" with three other people who also never replied. He had been alone in that chat for three weeks, doing the entire project by himself, thinking we were just rude. His project was completely different from ours, but it was actually really good. So our professor let him join us last minute. He became our favorite member because he brought donuts and had suffered alone for three weeks. We still call him Ghost as a nickname.

For a month, my socks kept disappearing. Not both socks, just one from each pair. So I had 10 single socks that made no sense. I blamed my laundry, my roommate, even myself thinking I was losing my mind. I asked my roommate, he said, "Not me, man." But his cat, Milo, would stare at me weird every time I opened my drawer. So I set up my old phone on my shelf to record my room while I was in class. When I came back and watched it, I couldn't believe it. Milo jumped on my dresser, used his paw to hook open my drawer — he's done this before — then carefully picked ONE sock with his mouth, just one, and dragged it across the hall to my roommate's room. I followed the trail. Under my roommate's bed, Milo had built a perfect nest. Eleven of my socks, all single, all arranged in a circle, and he was sleeping in the middle like a king. I picked him up and he had my sock in his mouth still. He looked at me like, "What? It's mine now." I took back my socks. Next day, he stole them again. Now I just let him have two. He paid rent with cuteness.

I was cleaning out my drawer and found my old phone from three years ago. It still turned on. I opened the messages and went to my best friend's chat. We were inseparable in school. Then she moved to another city and we slowly stopped talking. Not because we fought, just life. In the drafts folder, there were like 15 messages I typed but never sent. All from the first few months after she left. "Did you make new friends yet? I hope they know you're funny." "I saw someone who looked like you today and almost shouted your name." "I miss us already, is that stupid? It's only been a month." "Don't forget me okay?" I never sent them because I thought I would sound clingy. I thought she had moved on. I stared at them for a long time, then I copied the last one and sent it to her on my new phone. I wrote: "Found this draft from 3 years ago on my old phone. It's still true. Don't forget me okay? - from 3 years ago me" She replied in less than two minutes. She said: "Are you kidding me? I have the exact same drafts for you. I wrote 'do you think she still thinks about me?' and never sent it because I thought you were busy and happy without me." We video called that night. For four hours. We cried, we laughed, we showed each other our rooms. It was like no time had passed. Now we send every draft. No matter how dumb it sounds. I hated the elevator. It was old, slow, and made a scary noise. So I always took the stairs to the 3rd floor. Every single day. One rainy day my knees hurt so I took the elevator. Inside was an old lady with two heavy grocery bags. She smiled and said, "Can you press 4? My hands are full." I pressed 4. Then she looked at me carefully and said, "You are 3B, right? You never take the elevator. You always run up the stairs at 7:30am. Very fast." I got chills. How does she know that? She laughed and said, "Don't be scared. I live by the stairs. My door is always open a little. I hear everyone. I know when 2A leaves for work, when 1C fights with her boyfriend, when you come home late. I sit there because my house is quiet and outside is noisy. It makes me feel less alone." She wasn't creepy, she was just lonely. I started taking the elevator every day after that, even when I didn't need to. She would be there sometimes with biscuits. She'd say, "Today you were 10 minutes late, I was worried." She still knows everyone's schedule. But now she knows I will always press 4 for her.

I always order black coffee. No sugar, no milk, just bitter and fast. So when the barista slid a cup across that said "for the girl who always orders tea - hope your exam went okay" I said, "Wrong order, I don't drink tea." He froze. His face went completely red. He said, "Oh my god. I've been making that tea for two weeks for a girl who comes at 4pm. I thought you were her. I'm so sorry." He reached to throw it away but I stopped him. I don't know why. I said, "Don't waste it, I'll try it. What kind of tea is it?" He said, "Peach. With honey. She always said she hates coffee." I sipped it. It was way too sweet for me. But I said, "It's good. Did she pass her exam?" He said, "I don't know, she stopped coming. I think I scared her with the notes." I felt bad for him. So I said, "Come tomorrow at 4pm again. If she doesn't come, I'll drink the tea and you can write a note to me instead." He came. She didn't. He wrote me a new cup: "for the girl who pretended to like tea." I came the next day too. And the next. Now I actually like peach tea. And I only come at 4pm.