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She Was Only Supposed to Be My Neighbor
The girl who moved into the apartment next to mine had one annoying habit.
She always knocked on my door at the most inconvenient times.
Sometimes, it was because her Wi-Fi wasn't working. Other times, she needed help carrying groceries. Once, she knocked at 11 p.m. because she claimed she couldn't open a jar of peanut butter.
“Do you seriously not have any other friends in this building?” I asked her one evening.
She smiled. “I do.”
“Then why do you keep coming here?”
She looked me straight in the eyes.
“Because you're the only one I want to see.”
I laughed, assuming she was joking.
She wasn't.
Notes retweeted
MAX VS THE MAN IN BLACK: THE FINAL FIGHT SCENE
Max heard the glass break before he saw the man.
He stepped into the abandoned restaurant and found the stranger standing beside a overturned table, wearing a black coat with blood running down one sleeve.
“You came alone?” the man asked.
Max shut the door behind him.
“You wanted me. Here I am.”
The man smiled. “I wanted to see whether the stories were true.”
Max removed his jacket and dropped it onto a chair.
“Come find out.”
The stranger moved first.
He crossed the room with startling speed and threw a right hand at Max's face. Max leaned away, felt the punch brush his cheek, and answered with a sharp shot to the ribs.
The stranger grunted but barely moved.
Max followed with a left hook.
The man ducked. Max's fist sailed over his shoulder, and the stranger drove forward, slamming him into the edge of a dining table.
Wood cracked.
Max caught himself with one hand before he hit the floor. He twisted around and kicked backward, catching the man in the thigh.
The stranger stumbled.
Max sprang up and threw two quick punches, one to the body and another toward the jaw. The second landed cleanly. The man's head snapped sideways.
For the first time, the smile disappeared.
Max pressed his advantage.
He stepped in, feinted high, then swung low. The stranger blocked the first strike but took the second against his side. Max grabbed his coat and drove him backward into a row of chairs.
They crashed to the floor together.
A chair broke beneath them.
Max scrambled free first, landed a kick that sent the stranger rolling, and stood over him, breathing hard.
“Stay down,” Max warned.
The man spat blood onto the tiles.
Then he started laughing.
Not nervously. Not because he had lost control.
He laughed like Max had just told him a joke.
“You've got good hands,” he said, pushing himself upright.
Max raised his fists.
“Then stop talking.”
The stranger stood, rolled his shoulders, and looked around the ruined restaurant.
“Gladly.”
He picked up a heavy drinking glass from the counter.
Max's eyes followed it.
The stranger smashed it against the counter's edge. Glass shattered across the floor.
Max shifted his stance.
The man threw the broken glass aside.
“I don't need that,” he said.
Then he charged.
Notes retweeted
Max met him halfway.
Their fists collided in a chaotic exchange that sent them staggering around the restaurant. Max landed a punch against the man's cheek, then another against his stomach.
The stranger answered with a brutal hook that caught Max across the face.
Max stumbled into the bar.
His hip struck the counter, and bottles rattled behind him.
The man came forward, throwing another punch.
Max ducked beneath it and drove his shoulder into the stranger's chest. They crashed into the bar stools, sending one skidding across the floor.
Max grabbed a bottle from the counter and swung it in desperation.
The stranger recoiled.
The bottle struck his shoulder and shattered against the wall.
For one second, both men froze.
Max stared at the broken bottle in his hand.
The stranger looked at the shards scattered around his feet.
Then he looked back at Max.
“You're getting nervous.”
Max threw the remaining glass aside.
“I'm getting tired of you.”
He rushed forward with a combination of punches, forcing the stranger backward. A right hand landed. A left followed. The third missed as the stranger slipped sideways and caught Max with a short punch that folded him forward.
Max staggered.
The stranger seized his shirt and drove him into the wall.
A framed photograph dropped behind Max's head and shattered on the floor.
Max swung wildly. His fist caught the man's shoulder.
The stranger barely reacted.
He shoved Max away, stepped around a fallen chair, and kicked Max's leg out from under him.
Max hit the tiles hard.
Before the stranger could follow up, Max rolled aside and scrambled behind an overturned table. He shoved it forward with both hands.
The table struck the stranger's knees and knocked him off balance.
Max rose and landed a heavy punch.
The stranger fell against the counter.
Max was on him immediately.
He drove him across the room, striking him twice more before the man caught his wrist. They wrestled for control, boots scraping against broken glass and overturned furniture.
Max twisted free and shoved him away.
The stranger stumbled into a serving trolley.
Plates and cutlery crashed to the floor.
Max was breathing through his mouth now. His cheek was swelling, and blood had begun to trickle from his split lip.
The stranger wiped his face with the back of his hand.
His breathing was steadier.
That frightened Max more than the punches.
“Why aren't you staying down?” Max demanded.
The man glanced at the blood on his fingers.
“Because you keep making the mistake of thinking I'm fighting to survive.”
He lifted his eyes.
“I'm fighting to finish this.”
Max tightened his fists.
Then the stranger reached behind him and pulled a metal chair off the floor.
Max braced himself.
The chair struck the table beside him with a deafening crash.
He flinched just long enough for the stranger to close the distance.
The next punch landed before Max could recover.
And suddenly, Max wasn't controlling the fight anymore.
Notes retweeted
Michael arteta giving max dowman an the deadly stare after he got a red card ,his season as an arsenal player might be over
MAX VS THE MAN IN BLACK: THE FINAL FIGHT SCENE
Max heard the glass break before he saw the man.
He stepped into the abandoned restaurant and found the stranger standing beside a overturned table, wearing a black coat with blood running down one sleeve.
“You came alone?” the man asked.
Max shut the door behind him.
“You wanted me. Here I am.”
The man smiled. “I wanted to see whether the stories were true.”
Max removed his jacket and dropped it onto a chair.
“Come find out.”
The stranger moved first.
He crossed the room with startling speed and threw a right hand at Max's face. Max leaned away, felt the punch brush his cheek, and answered with a sharp shot to the ribs.
The stranger grunted but barely moved.
Max followed with a left hook.
The man ducked. Max's fist sailed over his shoulder, and the stranger drove forward, slamming him into the edge of a dining table.
Wood cracked.
Max caught himself with one hand before he hit the floor. He twisted around and kicked backward, catching the man in the thigh.
The stranger stumbled.
Max sprang up and threw two quick punches, one to the body and another toward the jaw. The second landed cleanly. The man's head snapped sideways.
For the first time, the smile disappeared.
Max pressed his advantage.
He stepped in, feinted high, then swung low. The stranger blocked the first strike but took the second against his side. Max grabbed his coat and drove him backward into a row of chairs.
They crashed to the floor together.
A chair broke beneath them.
Max scrambled free first, landed a kick that sent the stranger rolling, and stood over him, breathing hard.
“Stay down,” Max warned.
The man spat blood onto the tiles.
Then he started laughing.
Not nervously. Not because he had lost control.
He laughed like Max had just told him a joke.
“You've got good hands,” he said, pushing himself upright.
Max raised his fists.
“Then stop talking.”
The stranger stood, rolled his shoulders, and looked around the ruined restaurant.
“Gladly.”
He picked up a heavy drinking glass from the counter.
Max's eyes followed it.
The stranger smashed it against the counter's edge. Glass shattered across the floor.
Max shifted his stance.
The man threw the broken glass aside.
“I don't need that,” he said.
Then he charged.
Max met him halfway.
Their fists collided in a chaotic exchange that sent them staggering around the restaurant. Max landed a punch against the man's cheek, then another against his stomach.
The stranger answered with a brutal hook that caught Max across the face.
Max stumbled into the bar.
His hip struck the counter, and bottles rattled behind him.
The man came forward, throwing another punch.
Max ducked beneath it and drove his shoulder into the stranger's chest. They crashed into the bar stools, sending one skidding across the floor.
Max grabbed a bottle from the counter and swung it in desperation.
The stranger recoiled.
The bottle struck his shoulder and shattered against the wall.
For one second, both men froze.
Max stared at the broken bottle in his hand.
The stranger looked at the shards scattered around his feet.
Then he looked back at Max.
“You're getting nervous.”
Max threw the remaining glass aside.
“I'm getting tired of you.”
He rushed forward with a combination of punches, forcing the stranger backward. A right hand landed. A left followed. The third missed as the stranger slipped sideways and caught Max with a short punch that folded him forward.
Max staggered.
The stranger seized his shirt and drove him into the wall.
A framed photograph dropped behind Max's head and shattered on the floor.
Max swung wildly. His fist caught the man's shoulder.
The stranger barely reacted.
He shoved Max away, stepped around a fallen chair, and kicked Max's leg out from under him.
Max hit the tiles hard.
Before the stranger could follow up, Max rolled aside and scrambled behind an overturned table. He shoved it forward with both hands.
The table struck the stranger's knees and knocked him off balance.
Max rose and landed a heavy punch.
The stranger fell against the counter.
Max was on him immediately.
He drove him across the room, striking him twice more before the man caught his wrist. They wrestled for control, boots scraping against broken glass and overturned furniture.
Max twisted free and shoved him away.
The stranger stumbled into a serving trolley.
Plates and cutlery crashed to the floor.
Max was breathing through his mouth now. His cheek was swelling, and blood had begun to trickle from his split lip.
The stranger wiped his face with the back of his hand.
His breathing was steadier.
That frightened Max more than the punches.
“Why aren't you staying down?” Max demanded.
The man glanced at the blood on his fingers.
“Because you keep making the mistake of thinking I'm fighting to survive.”
He lifted his eyes.
“I'm fighting to finish this.”
Max tightened his fists.
Then the stranger reached behind him and pulled a metal chair off the floor.
Max braced himself.
The chair struck the table beside him with a deafening crash.
He flinched just long enough for the stranger to close the distance.
The next punch landed before Max could recover.
And suddenly, Max wasn't controlling the fight anymore.
Max staggered backward, blinking through the blood running into his eye.
The stranger followed relentlessly.
Max threw a desperate punch. The man slipped outside it and struck him across the body.
Max doubled over.
A second blow sent him stumbling into a pillar.
He pushed away from it and swung again, catching the stranger on the side of the head. The man's knees dipped.
Max saw his chance.
He lunged forward, grabbed the front of the black coat, and drove both of them through a set of double doors.
They crashed into the kitchen.
Metal trays clattered. A pot rolled beneath a counter. Max landed on his back, and the stranger came down beside him.
Max scrambled up first.
He grabbed a frying pan from a nearby counter and swung.
The stranger ducked. The pan struck a cabinet with a loud metallic bang.
Max swung again, but the man caught the handle and yanked it sideways. Max lost his grip.
The pan clattered across the tiles.
The stranger drove a punch into Max's stomach.
Max folded, coughing.
He tried to grab the man's coat, but the stranger shoved him against the refrigerator and struck him across the face.
Max slid down the metal door.
For a moment, he couldn't hear anything except the ringing in his ears.
He forced himself upright.
One eye was swelling shut. His hands shook as he raised them again.
“Come on,” he whispered.
The stranger stopped a few feet away.
Max charged with everything he had left.
He threw a right hand, then a left. The stranger blocked the first and took the second against his shoulder. Max drove forward, forcing him into the kitchen island.
For a heartbeat, Max had him trapped.
He struck him once more.
The stranger's head snapped back.
Max drew his fist again.
But his legs were exhausted, his balance gone. His next punch lacked the speed that had made him dangerous earlier.
The stranger saw it.
He stepped aside, caught Max off balance, and sent him crashing onto the kitchen floor.
Max tried to rise.
The stranger kicked the overturned chair away, grabbed Max by the front of his shirt, and hauled him halfway upright.
“Look at me,” he said.
Max struggled against his grip.
“Go to hell.”
The stranger gave a humourless smile.
“You first.”
He struck Max once.
Max fell.
He tried to push himself onto his hands and knees, but his arms buckled. He collapsed again, gasping, his face pressed against the cold tiles.
The stranger stood over him.
Max could still hear the distant sound of sirens outside. He had called for help before entering the building.
He'd believed he could keep the man busy until the police arrived.
He had been wrong.
The stranger crouched beside him and removed a small device from Max's jacket pocket.
Max recognized it immediately.
The recording device.
Everything Max had gathered as evidence was now in the stranger's hand.
“You thought this was about justice,” the man said quietly. “That's why you were always going to lose.”
Max tried to speak, but pain stole the words.
The stranger stood, straightened his coat, and walked toward the rear exit.
At the doorway, he stopped.
“Max?”
Max lifted his head slightly.
The man looked back at him.
“You should have stayed home.”
Then he disappeared into the darkness.
Seconds later, the police stormed the restaurant.
They found overturned furniture, shattered glass, blood across the kitchen tiles, and Max lying barely conscious beside the refrigerator.
But the man they had come to arrest was gone.
And so was the evidence.
Notes retweeted
I love how they still banter even after it becomes real. The “stop calling me babe in that ridiculous voice” line was perfect.
Notes retweeted
I met a girl through my aunt's friend on April 29th. My aunt had been telling me for months that she knew someone, and I finally said yes. I talked to her on the phone for 4 days. Our frequencies matched, and we decided to meet in Nashville, roughly halfway between our hometowns. She had some work there and asked if I could come. I decided to go and meet her in person before moving forward. We met every day for a week and connected. It was so smooth and organic. We decided to have our parents meet the following week. Now the real story begins.
She was going to Savannah with relatives from Charleston, and after the trip she was going to tell her mom and relatives (she doesn't have a father) about me. But apparently her family observes a month of fasting and prayer every year, and during that time you can't talk or meet, and nobody can discuss marriage. I don't believe in any of that, but she and her family do, so I supported her. I waited patiently for a month.
......
Notes retweeted
Honestly, this is embarrassing for Arsenal. 😭 A team sitting 18th in League Two has knocked them out, despite the huge difference in squad quality. Credit to Fleetwood Town — they fought for every ball and believed until the end. Football has no respect for reputations! 😂🔥
Notes retweeted
I accidentally sent my crush a message saying, “I wish you were mine. I'd kiss you every morning and never let you doubt how much I love you.”
The problem?
I sent it to him instead of my best friend.
His reply came thirty seconds later.
“Come downstairs.”
I nearly threw my phone across the room.
For two years, I had secretly loved Ethan, my next-door neighbor. He was funny, protective, and annoyingly handsome.
We shared food, watched movies together, and argued like an old married couple.
But whenever anyone suggested we were dating, he'd laugh and call me his little sister.
So I buried my feelings.
Until that message.
I rushed downstairs in my pajamas.
Ethan stood by his car, holding his phone.
“Was that message meant for me?”
I covered my face.
“No. I was hacked.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Your hacker wants to kiss me every morning?”
“Please, Ethan. Just forget it.”
I turned to leave, but he caught my hand.
“Look at me.”
I slowly lifted my head.
He was smiling, but his eyes looked strangely serious.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I don't want to lose you.”
His smile faded.
“Lose me?”
I nodded.
“If you don't feel the same way, everything between us will change.”
Ethan stared at me for a long moment.
Then he whispered, “Mia, I've been waiting two years for you to tell me that.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He stepped closer.
“I bought you flowers last Valentine's Day, but you told me you were seeing someone. I thought you were trying to tell me you weren't interested.”
“I said that because I thought you were taking another girl out!”
He burst out laughing.
Then he took my face gently in his hands.
“Can I kiss you now, or should I send a formal application?”
I started laughing through my tears.
“Just kiss me, idiot!”
He leaned closer.
But just before our lips touched, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and suddenly stepped away.
The caller's name was saved as MY FUTURE WIFE.
I felt my heart shatter all over again.
