When I moved into my new apartment, I craved peace, but within a week, nightly knocks began—exactly at 9:15 p.m. Three knocks, a pause, two more. Each night brought a different complaint or question: loud music, a missing cat, noises I couldn’t hear. Ignoring it didn’t work; she wouldn’t leave.
Exhausted and frustrated, I finally confronted her one stormy night, unleashing my anger over her relentless interruptions. She said nothing, just looked at me quietly and walked away.
The next day, the building manager explained: she wasn’t bothering me—she had done this for years, ever since a young tenant had a dangerous night. She knocks at the same time every evening just to make sure residents come home safely.
From then on, silence felt strange, and I’ve never heard a knock the same way again.