Every Monday with my next door neighbor

07:42 a.m. Late again…

He let out a quiet sigh and reluctantly pulled the blanket off himself. A faint scent of coffee drifted in through the side ventilation slot, and for some reason, that scent made something inside his chest… feel a little warmer.



“Next door... always wakes up so early,” he murmured to himself while reaching for the same shirt—still slightly damp—hanging on the rack beside his bed.

When he opened the door, it was there again.

A small lunchbox wrapped in a soft blue handkerchief, with a neatly handwritten note that read:



“Have breakfast first, okay? — Your next-door neighbor :)”

He’d never seen the note-writer’s face clearly.

All he knew was that every Monday morning… this lunchbox would always be there.

And perhaps—

It was the only reason he still tried to wake up in time on Mondays, even now.