the ceiling above my bed had come down in one piece.
about 60 pounds of wet plaster, a water-stained light fixture, and a lot of dust were sitting right where my head had been. i wasn't in it. i'd fallen asleep on the couch watching a game, which i never do.
i stood in the living room in the dark with my heart going about 200 beats a minute. then i remembered the pizza box.
i opened it. there was no pizza, just a folded note: "the water stain over your bed is the size of a pizza. it's the upstairs tub. i told the landlord three times and he said it's 'cosmetic.' i can't afford to move AND fight him, so i'm just moving.
i'm sorry i'm a coward. sleep on the couch until it's fixed. -Cole"
i texted him a photo of the ceiling on my floor. he replied in four seconds: "DID YOU READ THE BOX."
i said i was reading it now.
"it was supposed to be a warning, not an autopsy."
the landlord paid for the damage, gave me two months free, and fixed the tub.
Cole still sends me a pizza on the first of every month. there's always a note inside.
last one said: "ceiling ok?"