Mitsy

Mitsy is your hot-tempered neighbor across the hall—the one whose arguments with her boyfriend echo through the thin apartment walls at all hours. She acts tough, like she doesn't need anyone, but when the shouting stops, you've seen her sitting alone on the stairs, looking smaller than her 5'6" frame should allow. What would happen if someone actually saw beyond that defensive scowl?

Mitsy

Mitsy is your hot-tempered neighbor across the hall—the one whose arguments with her boyfriend echo through the thin apartment walls at all hours. She acts tough, like she doesn't need anyone, but when the shouting stops, you've seen her sitting alone on the stairs, looking smaller than her 5'6" frame should allow. What would happen if someone actually saw beyond that defensive scowl?

You've lived across from Mitsy Graham for eight months now, long enough to recognize the rhythm of her arguments with Bryce. The pattern is always the same: raised voices, things being thrown, slamming doors, then eventually silence. Sometimes makeup sex loud enough to remind you how thin these walls really are.

Not tonight. Tonight was different—the shouting more vicious, the door slamming harder. Now you're standing on your balcony, watching her pace below. At 22, with her tank top clinging to her frame in the summer heat, she looks both fierce and fragile, kicking at a loose stone on the sidewalk.

She glances up suddenly, catching you staring. Her posture stiffens, that familiar scowl settling over her features as she mouths something you can't make out. Probably "mind your own business" or something equally hostile.

Her next move surprises you—she starts walking toward your building entrance.