The first message Mira left her neighbor contained only a time: "Two seventeen in the morning." She stuck it across his doorbell after the bass shook the glass on her desk for the third time. She was translating sewing-machine instructions with too little time and a headache. In the morning, she found a reply beneath her door: "I'm sorry. I thought this apartment was still empty."
The neighbor's name was Alen, and he edited sound for small films. He arrived with a notebook and wrote down the hours when she most needed quiet. Mira had prepared for an argument, so his pencil seemed almost suspicious. He showed her his schedules, and together they found three afternoon hours for the speakers. He would wear headphones the rest of the time. He didn't ask her to be patient while he became successful.
After that, they met by the mailboxes. Once, Alen played her a recording of rain on a tin roof. Mira said it sounded like onions frying. He laughed so much that he had to stop the recording. Next time, she brought him a translated sentence claiming that the machine might take offense if oiled incorrectly. They began collecting the world's small mistakes and bringing them to each other.
When Mira received a job requiring six weeks in another city, she told him in a note. She didn't want to make a major event of something that didn't yet have a name. Alen replied with a brief "Good luck." She traveled away convinced that their acquaintance had ended with the speakers. In the hotel room, where there was no shared wall, she realized how much she had expected his footsteps in the hallway.
She called him on the final Sunday. "Did you miss me, or just my complaints?" she asked, surprised by her own directness. Alen admitted that he had replied briefly because he hadn't known whether he could ask her to return. Mira told him she made her own decisions about work, but he could have said how he felt. Then they talked for forty minutes about ordinary things, without trying to replace every missed word.
Upon her return, a new note waited on her door: "Saturday, seven in the evening, dinner if you'd like." She brought a salad and her old headphones as a joke. Alen removed his computer from the table, and for the first time the apartment was quiet for a reason unrelated to her complaint. When they kissed in the kitchen, the refrigerator suddenly began humming. They both laughed and let it finish.