She was always alone, never smiled, and people avoided her. They said she could start a fight at any moment. To us, she was the “angry neighbor” no one wanted to deal with.
Last month, she passed away. The police came to my door and asked me to join them when they checked her apartment, since I’d lived in the building the longest. I hesitated, but agreed.
When I entered her flat, I froze. The place was dim, quiet, and lined with shelves. On them were dozens of boxes, neatly labeled.
What happened next changed everything…
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