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During the summer, I turned 22. My boyfriend and I moved into our first apartment together.

It was a smaller building, about 12 units, and had an eclectic mix of tenants.

Everyone was kind and always happy to exchange small talk if we crossed paths in the hallway or the parking lot.

My boyfriend being more social than I quickly got to know the names and units that belonged to

everyone. Being a young man, he was often asked to help move furniture or carry in groceries

for some of the older residents. One woman in particular, Lisa, was especially talkative and seemed to find any excuse to have

my boyfriend and I come over to help her around the house.

Having grandparents of our own, we knew that she most likely wanted company other than her orange cat,

so we would always find the time to take out our trash or carry bags of cat litter up the

...