Chapter 1 - THE BAG THAT DIDN’T HIT THE FLOOR
At 7:04 a.m., the tea bag dropped.
This time, it never reached my balcony floor.
It landed inside the clear plastic container I had positioned directly beneath the spot where my upstairs neighbor usually threw it.
Plop.
Perfect.
I looked up.
His hand disappeared above the railing.
I smiled.
Then I picked up my phone.
The previous afternoon, I had installed a small security camera inside my apartment, aimed through the glass door at my balcony.
It recorded only my own space.
Nothing inside his apartment.
Nothing private.
Just my balcony, my furniture, and whatever happened to fall into it.
I had also spent two hours photographing every stain.
The ruined towel.
The chair cushion.
The flowerpot he had cracked with a ceramic tea infuser two weeks earlier.
And twenty-seven tea bags I had collected instead of throwing away.
Each one was now sealed in a separate sandwich bag and labeled with the date and approximate time.
I wasn't planning revenge.
I was building a paper trail.
That distinction mattered.
At 9:11 that evening, the second tea bag came down.
I caught that one too.
The next morning, another.
Then another.
For six days, I said nothing.
My upstairs neighbor—whose name, according to the building directory, was Trevor Lang—apparently believed he had won.
Whenever we passed in the lobby, he smiled.
Once, he actually gave me a little salute.
“Balcony behaving itself?” he asked.
I smiled back.
“Perfectly.”
His grin widened.
He thought I had surrendered.
By Friday, I had eleven new recordings.
At 4:30 that afternoon, I walked into the property manager's office carrying a folder.
Mrs. Alvarez looked up from her desk.
“Elaine? Everything okay?”
My name is Elaine Parker.
I was forty-six years old, worked as a contract editor from home, and had never filed a complaint against another tenant in eleven years.
“Not exactly.”
I placed the folder in front of her.
She opened it.
Photographs.
Dates.
Descriptions.
Receipts for the ruined towel and replacement chair cushion.
Then I showed her the videos.
In every recording, a hand appeared above the fourth-floor railing.
In every recording, a wet tea bag dropped.
Mrs. Alvarez watched three clips.
Then a fourth.
Her expression changed.
“You've spoken to him?”
“Three times.”
“What did he say?”
“The last time, he told me I should be grateful it was only tea.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
She leaned back.
“Elaine, why didn't you come to us sooner?”
“I wanted to be sure it wasn't accidental.”
She glanced at the eleven labeled tea bags inside my tote.
“I think we're past accidental.”
She began typing.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“First, written warning.”
I nodded.
“Then?”
“If it continues, formal lease violation.”
Simple.
Exactly what I wanted.
No shouting.
No revenge video posted online.
No confrontation.
Just consequences.
That evening, I heard Trevor return home around six.
At 6:17, footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Then someone pounded on my door.
I didn't answer immediately.
The pounding continued.
“Elaine!”
I opened the door with the chain still attached.
Trevor stood outside holding a sheet of paper.
His face was red.
“You reported me?”
“Yes.”
“You actually reported me over tea bags?”
“Yes.”
He laughed in disbelief.
“You've got to be kidding.”
“I asked you three times.”
“Jesus Christ. Are you recording me?”
“My balcony.”
His expression changed.
“You can't do that.”
“Apparently I can.”
He stared at me.
Then smiled.
It wasn't friendly.
“You have no idea what kind of mistake you just made.”
I remembered his earlier warning.
Could be worse.
This time, I didn't feel intimidated.
“Then I guess we'll both find out.”
I closed the door.
At 9:03, nothing fell.
At 9:30, still nothing.
For the first time in months, my balcony remained clean.
I went to bed feeling almost foolishly victorious.
At 2:17 in the morning, something heavy crashed outside.
I jumped awake.
My balcony light was already on when I opened the curtain.
One of my large ceramic flowerpots had shattered across the concrete.
Soil covered the floor.
My rosemary plant lay broken beneath it.
But the pot hadn't fallen from above.
I knew because it was mine.
May you like
Someone had entered my balcony.
And placed in the middle of the dirt was a fresh tea bag.
