The Man From Apartment 13B

When Kim moved into an apartment building in London, she promised herself one thing: No relationships. At twenty-seven, she was already exhausted from disappointment. Her ex had broken their engagement six months earlier, her publishing internship had ended badly, and she was barely surviving on freelance editing jobs. Apartment 13A was supposed to be temporary. Quiet. Simple. Forgettable. Then she met the man in 13B. It happened on a Thursday night when the hallway lights suddenly stopped working. Kim was struggling with grocery bags when a deep voice said behind her: "You're about to drop the eggs." She turned quickly. Tall. Dark coat. Tired eyes. Probably early thirties. And annoyingly attractive. "I'm fine, thank you" she replied. One bag immediately ripped open. Tomatoes rolled across the hallway. The stranger stared for a second and laughed softly. Kim groaned. "Don't laugh. This is humiliating." "I'm helping," he said, kneeling to pick up the tomatoes. "That looks a lot like laughing." He smiled slightly. "I'm Dave." "Kim." For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Apartment 13B opened behind him. "Well," he said, handing her the last Tomato, "welcome to the building." And somehow, that simple sentence stayed in Kim's head all night.