Over the next weeks, Amelia became a regular at 4A. She'd knock with leftover dumplings. He'd knock with a new vinyl find. They watched terrible baking shows and critiqued the hosts' emotional stability. She wrote a profile on Hollow Bones that went viral — not because of the band's music, but because she described Leo's drumming as "the sound of someone building a house inside a storm."
One Tuesday, she was spiraling over a 2,000-word feature on "The Aesthetics of Solitude" — an irony that was not lost on her — when her laptop battery died. No charger in sight. Deadline in four hours.
"Hi," Amelia said. "I'm your neighbor. I need to borrow a laptop charger. Or a miracle." Amelia-Wang---Your-next-door-whore --
That night, she filed "The Aesthetics of Solitude" with a new final paragraph:
"I'm not?"
Leo was not a ghost. Leo was a percussionist for a semi-famous indie band called Hollow Bones . He practiced his drum rudiments at 7 a.m. sharp. He hung string lights on his balcony. He introduced himself to everyone on the floor with homemade kimchi jjigae and a smile that could power a small city.
Leo opened the door in a faded t-shirt that said "I Drum Therefore I Am." A cat — a fat, judgmental orange tabby — sat on his shoulder. Over the next weeks, Amelia became a regular at 4A
Amelia laughed. It was a real laugh, the kind she hadn't heard from herself in years. Tofu the cat waddled over and sat directly on her notes.