At 6:11, his balcony door slid open above me. Seconds later, the wet tea bag dropped through the air and landed exactly where I expected. I didn’t yell. I simply picked it up with a paper towel, held it toward the small security camera I had installed the afternoon before, and said, “Number forty-three.” Then I heard him laugh from upstairs. What he didn’t know was that I had spent the previous day photographing every stain, saving our text messages, and filing a written complaint with building management.
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