Скачать или смотреть My Neighbor Asked, "Why Are You Still Single?"—My Answer Broke Her

I didn't expect Julia Brennan to save my life that Tuesday morning, but then again, I didn't know I needed saving. She caught me in the hallway of our apartment building, balancing a broken coffee maker and a stack of work files that were about to slide everywhere. Her smile was quick and genuine as she grabbed the files before gravity could scatter them across the worn carpet. That small gesture marked the beginning of something I couldn't name yet. My name is David Harper, and for three years I'd been living like a man underwater, everything muffled and distant, just trying to make it through each day without drowning completely. Portland had become my refuge after everything fell apart in Eugene. The rain here felt appropriate, matching the gray weight I carried inside. I worked as a software engineer from my apartment most days, solving problems through screens while avoiding the messier complications of actual human connection.
Julia lived in the unit next to mine, close enough that I could hear her music through the walls sometimes, soft jazz that made the evenings feel less empty. She was a freelance graphic designer, which meant her schedule was as unpredictable as mine was rigid. We'd started with polite nods in the hallway, then brief conversations about the building's terrible heating system, then gradually something that resembled friendship. She'd knock on my door when she needed help reaching something on a high shelf. I'd text her when I accidentally ordered too much Chinese food. Simple exchanges that felt safe because they had clear boundaries.
What made Julia different from other people I'd met since moving here was her patience. She never pushed. When I deflected personal questions, she'd just smile and change the subject. When I made excuses about being busy, she'd say maybe next time without any edge in her voice. Most people gave up after a few attempts. Julia seemed content to exist in my orbit without demanding I let her closer. That should have been my first warning that she was dangerous to my carefully maintained distance.