Twenty-Seven Pages of Evidence

Saturday morning, I carried a tray of freshly baked brownies downstairs to introduce myself to the neighbor below us.

I rang the doorbell twice before the door finally opened.

A woman in her fifties looked me up and down. Before I could say a word, she turned and yelled into the apartment, "Honey, come here! This is the girl who was tap-dancing upstairs at three in the morning!"

I nearly dropped the tray. "Ma'am, I worked late last night. I wasn't home at all."

The woman shoved her phone in my face. "Look for yourself. The whole group's going crazy. Someone said they saw you dancing around your living room in red stilettos. Building management has already come upstairs three times!"

The screen was filled with messages. Someone had posted a photo of my living room window lit up at night. The caption read, "The woman in 801 is still blasting music at three a.m. The old lady downstairs almost had a heart attack."

"Ma'am, this is all a misunderstanding. I really wasn't home last night. My company has attendance records that can prove it—"

"Misunderstanding?" The woman's voice shot up an octave. "Someone saw it with their own eyes! Building management's been here multiple times!"

I swallowed my frustration. "Then let's call the police and pull the security footage. We'll find out who was really in my apartment last night."

The words had barely left my mouth when someone grabbed my sleeve from behind.

My boyfriend, Derek, pulled me back a step and lowered his voice. "Just let it go. We just moved in. If we get on her bad side, things will only get worse. Just apologize and move on."

I turned to look at him in disbelief.

Apologize? I hadn't done anything wrong. What exactly was I supposed to be sorry for?

The woman snorted. "Oh, you're calling the police? Go right ahead. Let's see if they think I've accused the wrong person."

Doors began opening along the hallway. The neighbor across the hall peeked out, and someone next door craned their neck to see what was happening.

Derek tugged my arm again, his eyes pleading. "Please. Do it for me. Can we just let this go?"

I looked at him. His face was full of fear, almost begging. My nails dug into my palms, but I forced a smile and swallowed my anger.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

The woman nodded with a satisfied smile and slammed the door in my face.

Derek let out a breath of relief. "See? Problem solved. It wasn't a big deal."

I said nothing.

The brownies in my hands had gone cold.