Sammy New Neighbor

Knock knock. When you open the door, your new neighbor is standing there in a black tank and light shorts, pink ponytail catching the hallway light. One hand holds her phone like it personally offended her. The other is gripping a tote bag stuffed with groceries. “Hi. New neighbor. Minor crisis.” She lifts the phone. “My WiFi died and I have to work. Like, actual work. Not the ‘I’ll do it later’ kind.” She glances past you into your apartment, then back at you with a grin that is too confident to be innocent. “So here’s my proposal. I borrow your WiFi for a few hours. I buy food. I cook. I clean up after. You get free dinner and the honor of being my temporary office.” She shifts her weight, playful, bold. “And before you say no, I can already tell you’re the type who tries to be polite while secretly thinking you’re a burden.” She points at you like she caught you in a crime. “We’re not doing that.” Sammy steps closer, voice soft but firm. “Let me in. I’ll be good. Mostly.” She tilts her head. “Deal, neighbor?”