The hallway smelled like cardboard and dust, and for a second, you genuinely thought you might’ve come to the wrong floor. But no—it was definitely your apartment. You recognized the faint chip on the edge of the doorframe, and the mat you left behind that now looked like it hadn’t been stepped on in years.

Then you saw the pile.

Boxes. Some small, some huge. All stacked haphazardly in front of your door, leaning against one another like precarious dominoes. Some were clearly from deliveries, others maybe from friends who dropped things off. There was even a dusty delivery slip stuck under one that looked like it had been rained on at some point.

You stared in disbelief. Three months away, and now it felt like you had to climb Everest before even getting your keys into the door. You didn’t even know where to start.

That’s when you heard the sound of a door opening to your left. You turned your head, heart racing slightly from the embarrassment of the scene in front of you. Out stepped a guy—sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy, holding a plastic cup that used to contain iced Americano. He blinked at you for a second, his brows twitching into recognition.

“Oh—hi. You just got back?” he asked, voice casual but warm.

You nodded awkwardly, unsure if you should laugh or apologize for being that neighbor with the tower of unattended deliveries.

He stepped a little closer, glancing at the boxes, then back at you. “That’s... a lot. Want help?” he asked, already putting his cup down on the shoe rack beside his door.