helping neighbour

As Alex grappled with the uncertainty of his future, lost in the maze of his thoughts, a sudden interruption startled him. The familiar sound of his doorbell echoed through his apartment, breaking the contemplative silence.

He furrowed his brows in mild surprise. "Who could it be?" Alex wondered, shifting from his bed to answer the door. The unexpected visitor added an intriguing twist to what seemed like a day of introspection and self-discovery.

With a sense of anticipation, Alex approached the door and opened it to find Mr. Thompson, his neighbor from down the hall, standing on the other side. The elderly man wore a friendly smile, and his presence carried an air of familiarity.

"Hello, kid! I'm Thompson. I live in the flat down below here," he said.

"I know! I've seen you so many times," Alex added.

Thompson hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Actually, I need some help with a few things around my place. You know, stuff I can't manage at my age."

Amused by Alex's surprise, Thompson responded, "Mia from next door mentioned you might be up for it. Said you're a reliable guy."

Internalizing a sigh, Alex found himself unable to decline the old man's request. Resigned, he agreed to lend a hand.

Following Mr. Thompson, Alex was led into his apartment.

"Please come inside," Thompson warmly invited him.

The apartment was of similar size to Alex's, but its rooms were filled with retro-style movie posters, creating an ambiance of nostalgia. The walls were adorned with images of classic films, evoking a sense of cinematic history.

Thompson led Alex to the kitchen, where a persistent dripping sound echoed. A leaking water pipe was causing a small puddle on the floor.

"I've been meaning to fix this, but these old bones don't move like they used to," Thompson said with a chuckle.

Alex, always up for a challenge, took a closer look at the pipe. "I think I can help with this. Do you have any tools around?"

Thompson directed him to a toolbox tucked away in a corner. Alex grabbed the necessary tools and got to work. As he tightened the loose joint, he engaged in a casual conversation with Thompson.

"So, you used to work in the film industry. That must have been exciting," Alex remarked.

Thompson leaned against the counter, reminiscing, "Oh, it had its moments. I directed a few films, nothing major, but I loved every second of it."

Alex tightened the last bolt, stopping the leak. "There you go, good as new."

Thompson marveled at Alex's handiwork. "You've got a knack for this. Thanks, my boy. I appreciate the help."

"No problem, Mr. Thompson. Glad I could assist," Alex replied, wiping his hands.

"Come, let's have some tea. I've got an assortment of good flavors," Thompson warmly suggested, inviting Alex to join him.

Alex, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the older man, couldn't decline the offer. He followed Thompson to the kitchen, where the enticing aroma of tea filled the air.

In the cozy kitchen space, surrounded by the comforting scent of brewing tea, Alex and Thompson settled in for a moment of shared warmth and conversation.

Thompson leaned back in his chair, carefully studying Alex's face. "You've changed a lot in the last few days," he remarked, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"What?" Alex responded, his confusion evident.

"Every time I tried to talk to you before, you would avoid me, and there was this fear in your eyes. I couldn't even remember the last time I saw you smile. But now, you're smiling and having a conversation with me. Something has changed in you," Thompson observed, his gaze searching for the source of this transformation.

"It's nothing," Alex shrugged off, attempting to downplay the shift in his demeanor.

Thompson, however, wasn't easily swayed. "You know why I always tried to talk with you," he continued, a sincerity in his voice that demanded attention.

Alex looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

"You remind me of my son," Thompson admitted, his gaze turning distant as he delved into the memories of the past.

"Your son?" Alex questioned, intrigued.

"Yes. I loved movies so much that I didn't even care about my wife and my son. But one day, I lost both of them. My life seemed to be empty, and I stopped making films," Thompson shared, the weight of those lost years evident in his voice.

"Seems like you loved your son," Alex remarked, sensing the undercurrent of regret in Thompson's narrative.

"Every father loves their kids," Thompson affirmed, a mixture of sadness and longing in his eyes.

As Thompson's story unfolded, Alex's mind drifted to his own past, and suddenly, he remembered the harsh beatings and kicks he endured as a child. The memories flooded back, causing him to tremble involuntarily.

Thompson, sensing Alex's distress, immediately reached out, holding his trembling hands. "What happened, kid?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson. Some fathers don't love their kids," Alex whispered.

Understanding his situation, Thompson changed the topic to movies, and Alex started to cool down.

After a heartwarming conversation with Mr. Thompson, Alex felt a sense of relief and gratitude. The old man's openness about his past had touched something within Alex, making him appreciate the bond they were starting to build.

As Alex returned to his apartment, he was greeted by the sight of Lily waiting for him outside his door. Her bright eyes sparkled with innocence as she held her school bag close.

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked, curious about Lily's unexpected presence.

"I need help with my homework," Lily declared, adding a touch of urgency to her plea.

"Is that a demand?" Alex teased, a gentle smile forming on his lips.

"Yes!" Lily responded with determination, emphasizing her need for assistance.

"Well, it seems like there's no way for me to refuse such a request," Alex chuckled, realizing that Lily's charm had a persuasive power of its own. They both entered his apartment.