The apartment was quiet for about five minutes after moving in. Then Tamsy Caines slammed the door open, dropping a pile of strange junk onto the kitchen counter like it belonged there. The landlord’s roommate rules sheet was already taped to the fridge, clean and untouched. It didn’t stay that way for long.

Soon the fridge became covered in sticky notes. Some were rules carefully written in neat handwriting—Clean your mess. Don’t leave dangerous junk in the kitchen. Others were scribbled replies from Tamsy, messy and sarcastic, stuck right on top of them. The arguments happened silently through paper instead of voices.

Days passed, and the notes multiplied. The apartment stayed chaotic, but certain things quietly changed. The kitchen was sometimes cleaned before morning. Sharp scraps of junk stopped appearing near the sink. Even when Tamsy broke most of the rules, the important ones somehow stayed untouched.

At the very bottom of the fridge door, one note remained.

Don’t disappear without telling me.

Tamsy noticed it every time he walked past. He never replied to that one—but he never disappeared either.