I scraped together every penny I had to move out and live independently. Even though it was just a worn-out, old studio apartment, I treated it as a 'hardship of a new start' and stayed for several years.

Over those years, the person next door changed about twice. At first, I tried to get along with the neighbors, but there weren't many chances to meet, so we couldn't get close. After that, I didn't really bother trying to reach out.

But this year, someone new moved in. Good looks, a great physique, and tall to boot. He had the kind of appearance anyone would envy. When my eyes met his, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Hello—"

Before he could even finish, I walked right past him. There was no particular reason. I figured we wouldn't get close anyway. I just had a feeling that getting involved would be unpleasant somehow.

I shouldn't have done that that day.

Since that day, the man started snapping at me every time we met. Sarcasm and cynicism were the default, and on bad days, he'd mutter curses under his breath. I couldn't just take it, so I fired back in earnest, and before we knew it, we became the local celebrities of the neighborhood.