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A buffoon, a social catastrophe 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            Yesterday, I made a fool of myself to the nth degree. In fact, ‘fool’ is an understatement. I was an unparalleled putz.

            While unlocking the front door to our apartment complex, I saw a lady heading up the sidewalk carrying two grocery bags. Not sure if she was passing by or lived in our building, I hesitated, holding the door open. Sure enough, she thanked me and then passed through the threshold. After we entered the elevator, I closed the outer and inner doors and she immediately pressed the button for the eighth floor and I wondered how she knew where I lived. As the elevator lifted, it occurred to me she might be the lady I’d seen once, six months ago, who lives above me on the ninth floor.

            When the elevator stopped at the eighth floor, I threw open the doors and exited in a hurry so she could continue her ascent. As I was closing the outer door, however, she pushed it open with her shoulder, stepping out with incredulous eyes and a bewildered expression. She looked me up and down, turned to unlock her door, and only then did it occur to me that she was my next-door neighbor. Our living rooms share a common wall and our front doors are three feet apart.

            So that’s it then, I’m a buffoon, a social catastrophe. Not that I care. I’m not worried about what she thinks or missing out on a birthday present. Meanwhile, after the adventure of my first night in this apartment, she must already think I’m an idiot. Anyway, let that be a lesson to you, Shaw. Never hold the door open for an unfamiliar face, even if it’s your next-door neighbor.

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