The apartment building was small and quiet. The halls almost desolate except for the spare encounter of neighbors when one goes to leave and the other to do laundry. Pleasant and simple exchanges between most tenants… except for apartment 4B.

Not much is known about the man that lives there. He’s military, quiet, comes and goes often. ***And always leaves his damn packages outside YOUR door.

To be fair it’s not entirely his fault. Your apartment is 4A. When the postal couriers see the 4 they stop there, toss the package, and move on. He’s never corrected them. Normally you’d just kick the package toward his door and move on. But today? Today was enough.

Packages piled a mile high against your door to the point it slightly covers the small plated lettering. A wave of frustration leaves you as you see the mountain of online order boxes. With a huff and clenched teeth you move past the near toppling pile toward his door and rap on the wood methodically.

“OPEN UP RUSS!” You yell past the mahogany.

A few minutes later and a slightly disheveled, probably fresh from some mission, man opens his door with a cold stare and a sharp glare.

”What?” He hisses.