Connie dried off the last mug and put it back into the cupboard, drying her hands with a satisfied smile as she tossed the dishrag on the table. Her day’s work done, the extra bit of productivity stuffed into a day that had already been full of it.

Work had been tough, but fun, and the customers had been less of a pain than they usually were — all in all, the day had been good to her.

She paused to listen to the noises outside, the usual commotion when her neighbor came home. His arrival always marked the end of her day, for no other reason than that he arrived like clockwork, heaving and panting and carrying his bike on his shoulder, up to the fourth floor.

Connie knew him barely enough to talk to, knew his last name from the doorbell sign, and she had already forgotten his first name if he had ever told her. It was a city apartment full of people from all walks of life, with barely any overlap or reason to talk to the neighbors.

If someone needed sugar, they would walk down to the 24/7 shop by the subway station, not ring at their neighbor’s door. Less hassle, less chance of overstepping, and most importantly less chance to make contact with yet another life form, the city already had plenty of unwanted human contact as it were.

And still, Connie found her neighbor curious, if not a little cute, even. He left home in the morning, bike over his shoulder, and he returned back home in the evening, bike over his shoulder. Sometimes, he had a little shopping bag in the other hand, and always, he seemed closer to death than life when he opened his door.

She had seen him use an inhaler before, which explained the near death experience he seemed to be going through, and it explained why he always banged the bike against the walls and corners of the narrow hallway. And still, he went out everyday, and he never seemed to be weighed down by his asthma, or anything else for that matter.

She had seen him arrive once or twice, on the days when she went for a little stroll through the street, and he seemed, if not happy, then at least content, and few people ever did.

She had tiptoed to the door once or twice, catching a glimpse at him through the peephole in the door, and felt like a right creep doing so. She couldn’t even place her finger on the reason for her slight fascination with him, but he seemed different to most.

Sometimes, he had friends over, and sometimes she could hear him leave again in the evening, probably heading out somewhere to meet someone. But most days, he just stayed home, and he wasn’t like her other neighbors who all seemed to have a fetish for power drills, hammers, and loudly failing marriages.

Connie had thought about inviting him over once or twice before, but had never really known how one would possibly set that up. Or why she even wanted to, for that matter. Maybe she was simply losing it, maybe she was going mad from the loneliness, just like Mary always teased her about.

But was that such a bad thing, really? Who wanted to stay sane in a world this crazy? Who wanted to meet new people, when the people of old were tried and trusted? Who really wanted to go out, talk to strangers, act as if you don’t know exactly what they think about when they look you up and down?

And who ever wanted to admit that maybe, a strange night with a stranger was still the best possible outcome, compared to another night of aimlessly discussing things that all had been discussed before?

A tiny war broke out outside, at least by the sounds of it. Something metallic crashed against her wall, a man swore under his breath, and a set of keys fell down to the floor.

Connie was by the door before she really knew it, opening it up to glance outside. The mess in front of her matched the noise beforehand, but it was somehow much, much funnier.

There was her neighbor, kneeling on the floor, surrounded by his bike, his keys — and most notably, a whole bag worth of groceries, aimlessly rolling around on the floor. To her delight — and no doubt his pain — he had obviously bought a box of milk that had sprung open during the fall.

It was a mess, and a beautiful mess as such, and Connie tried in vain to stifle her laughter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t laugh. It’s just ... not what I expected to see today. You okay?”

He looked over to her, looked down on the floor, looked back up to her again with a look in his eyes that only added to the situation. They told her a story of his day, and how in line it had been with this end to it. And then, he smiled, shaking his head in disgust with the world.

“No, no, it’s alright”, he said, slowly getting up. “I’m sorry about the noise. Listen, uh, I’m sorry, but I totally forgot your name. I know you told me once, but it’s been so long, and...”

He was such a mess, his knees and pants legs soaked with milk, and she couldn’t have been angry at him if she had wanted to.

“It’s Connie, and never mind, I forgot yours as well. If you ever told me, that is. Come, I’ll help you.”

He held up a hand. “It’s Marc, and you really don’t have to. No need to get your hands dirty.”

Connie laughed, then picked up his bicycle from the floor to lean it against the walls. The front wheel turned, she nearly lost control of it, barely managed to stabilize it in time. Then, she knelt down and started picking up fruit.

“Eh, whatever. It’s milk, right? Could be worse.”

Her socks were soaked immediately, and it was all a mess alright — but together, they managed. She handed him what she picked up, and he put everything back into his shopping bag, frowning at each piece as if it was solely responsible for everything.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

He paused, and she paused with him, then smiled and turned around to walk to her door.

“Least I can do is invite you over for coffee!” he called after her, and it made her pause again. She turned around, smiled at him, then shook her head.

“I’m really not in the mood to risk my life at a stranger’s place tonight.”

She didn’t know why she had said that, but she immediately felt sorry about it. It had been supposed to sound like a joke, and it came out different. But instead of being angry, he just nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Alright, have a nice evening, Connie.”

She looked at him, and then turned it into a frowning stare.

“Tell you what”, she said, “I am in the mood to risk my life over at my own place tonight. Go on, get cleaned up, put on something comfortable, and then you knock and we’ll have coffee. Plan?”

He looked at her, silently shaking his head. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be right over.”

Connie tore her socks off, tried tip-toeing to the bathroom, then realized the futility of her attempt to not leave any milk tracks. She sighed, washed her feet, then sacrificed a fresh towel to clean her own floor, and the hallway while she was at it.

A fresh pair of socks later, she felt just about ready to have visitors again, and she felt plenty well dressed enough in her comfy sweatpants and the shirt that was probably a little too revealing.

But he would not get any ideas, she thought, would he? He didn’t seem like the type of guy who takes an invitation for coffee as something it was not, right?

She shrugged, secretly annoyed with herself for being the kind of girl who took an invitation for coffee like something it was not. Was this really what it had come to, her being nervous about a quick coffee with her neighbor?

No, she decided, that was something she would have to reserve for their first bottle of wine together, if it ever came to that.

She heard a knock on the door, and she hadn’t even had the time to prepare anything, much less herself.

“Come on in. I’m afraid I got nothing done, still need to set up the coffee.”

He stepped inside, and she couldn’t help but give him a quick once-over, and couldn’t help but like what she saw. He had played ball and come in old, comfy clothes, and his hair wasn’t even dry yet. Walking in front of her, she could smell his shower gel, and she neither loved nor hated it.

“Kitchen’s to the right”, she said, then realized that he probably knew well enough. She felt stupid, and she realized that wasn’t a good sign. She wasn’t herself tonight, wasn’t in charge of the situation in her own home.

“I brought bananas”, he said as he needlessly handed them to her. “And don’t worry, I cleaned them off.”

She laughed, ripped them from his hands, then put them to the side. She hated that she liked this gift, stupid as it was, and obviously the first thing he had grabbed on his way out the door. It wasn’t meant to be a considerate gift, and yet it felt like one. Stupid.

Connie started to prep the coffee machine, then paused to look around.

“You want any coffee? Or, I don’t know, I have other stuff. Water, wine, I don’t think I have any beer, though.”

Now, she had all right to be nervous, and she had only herself to blame for it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, it seems like the kind of day for a glass of wine, doesn’t it?”

He smiled, then shrugged.

“All I know is that I’ve had more than enough coffee for today. Wine is fine, it’ll go well with the bananas.”

She started chuckling again, but realized that he was serious, then tilted her head.

“You aren’t joking. Bananas?”

“Yeah, for real, you gotta try this. You slice them, roll them in sesame, it tastes amazing. You got any sesame?”

“I sincerely doubt I do. I can offer you salt, pepper...”

“Yeah, one moment, I’ll be right back.”

Connie watched him leave, and it made her sad. She didn’t want him to go so soon, they had barely even talked. But he was back in an instant, before she could even slap herself for being such a mess.

A moment later, they sat on her couch, and with them two glasses, a bottle, and a single plate of sliced bananas.

And frankly, he had been right, they did taste fascinating. The only problem was that the plate was between them, and they both had to lean forward to fork up the pieces. It brought them too close for comfort, or whatever it was that she was supposed to feel right now.