It was sad when Mrs. Green died. Well, sad for me at any rate. After all, it was an old apartment building, the walls paper thin, and, apart from her tea kettle boiling, I barely ever heard a peep out of her. Heck, she even baked me cookies from time to time. Even knitted me a sweater for Christmas once. Now she was gone. No more cookies. No more new sweaters. Just a new neighbor to break in. Sad, so sad.
Which is why, when the moving company showed up, it was with both fear and trepidation that I watched and waited for her replacement to arrive. Maybe, I figured (hoped, prayed), this one would be even quieter—and enjoyed coffee instead of tea and baked with real chocolate instead of that nasty sugarless kind. But it wasn’t like I could tell any of that from the slew of cardboard boxes th
