I asked my upstairs neighbor three different times to stop tossing used tea bags onto my balcony. The first time,…

into the fabric.

That was when I decided to speak with him.

I went upstairs and knocked on apartment 4B.

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When he opened the door, I held up the tea bag.

“Does this belong to you?”

His expression immediately became apologetic.

“Oh, wow. Did that fall from my balcony?”

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“It isn’t the first one.”

He rubbed his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’m half asleep in the mornings. Sometimes I finish my tea outside and toss the bag without thinking.”

He seemed genuinely embarrassed.

---

“It won’t happen again.”

I thanked him and went downstairs.

For a moment, I even wondered whether I had made too much of something minor.

The following morning answered that question.

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Another wet tea bag was sitting on my balcony.

Still, I said nothing.

I waited almost three weeks.

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I had lived in the building for eleven years and had always tried to be

an easygoing neighbor.

I wasn’t interested in creating tension over something that could easily be fixed.

Then one evening, I was sitting inside when I heard a soft *plop* outside.

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Another tea bag.

This one had landed directly on the cushion of my favorite balcony chair.

By the time I picked it up, the fabric was already stained.

That finally pushed me upstairs again.

---

He opened the door.

“You’re still throwing tea bags onto my balcony,” I said.

He shrugged.

“It’s just tea.”

---

“It has already ruined a towel. Now my chair cushion is stained.”

Instead of apologizing, he leaned against the doorway.

“Well, you live underneath me. Things fall. That’s part of apartment life.”

“They aren’t falling. You’re throwing them.”

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He smiled.

“Look, you should probably be grateful it’s only tea.”

I stared at him.

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“What is that supposed to mean?”

He gave another little laugh.

“Could