Seven years after my divorce, I finally had a comforting routine: morning runs alone with my music, a peaceful start before the chaos of the day. But my neighbor Charlie ruined it every morning—jogging beside me at a slow pace, unloading terrible jokes and pointless stories. I dropped hints about wanting quiet, but he never got it.
At first, I found him deeply irritating and even tried to avoid him, but he always intercepted me with cheerful chatter. I considered confronting him, but instead just gritted my teeth and endured it.
Strangely, over time, I began to miss him. On days he didn’t show up, the silence felt heavy, and I found myself missing his absurd jokes. I even started to look forward to seeing him.
Then one morning he didn’t appear at all. Hours passed and still no Charlie. Worried, I went to his house. There was no answer. As I was leaving, a woman stormed out, angry and suspicious, telling me Charlie was her husband and I had no business there. The story ends there…