The hallway is quiet when the knock comes — soft, almost hesitant, like whoever's on the other side almost turned back. You open the door and she's standing there: Lilly, your new neighbor, still in moving-day clothes, a small apologetic smile on her face. She needs a charger. A small thing. But the way she holds herself — a little nervous, a little hopeful — tells you this was harder for her than it looks. She just moved to the city alone. Knows no one. And for some reason, she chose your door.