My parking spot was repeatedly misappropriated by an unknown individual, who left nothing but his phone number on my windshield. When I phoned him, he never provided an explanation; instead, he simply relocated the car and disappeared into the night. Someone or something about it made me feel uneasy.

When I found out who he was, however, my entire world came crashing down around me. When I eventually turned off my computer and made my way out to the parking lot on that Tuesday evening, the fluorescent lights in the workplace had been causing intense discomfort to my eyes for about eleven hours. A persistent ache in my temples served as a warning that a migraine was right around the corner.

My neck felt as if it had been gripped in a vice for the entirety of the day. I wanted nothing more than to get in my car, drive back to my house, and collapse on my couch while taking in the aroma of whatever dinner my wife, Sophie, had prepared. After a long day at work, she would typically have something warm ready for me, and she enjoyed making a fuss over me.

If I had been lucky, she might have prepared her famous creamy baked lasagna, the kind that has three different kinds of cheese and had the ability to bring me back to life regardless of how disappointing my day had been. That evening, however, when I pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex, the brief bubble of relief that I had been experiencing burst in an instant. In my parking spot, there was someone else.

Having said that, it might not have appeared to be a significant issue to anyone else. Guests could find lots of parking spots in our building, which were located a little further down the lot. But the fourteenth spot was mine.

The one that was immediately in front of our stairway, under the lamp that provided me with peace of mind when I arrived home late, was the one that I had argued with the landlord for weeks in order to take possession of. Convenience was not the only factor. It was something that I had struggled for, and I regarded it to be a component of the monthly rent that I paid.

A black Toyota Camry was now smugly occupying that place, and it was visible to everyone. At the same time as my hold on the steering wheel became more firm, I whispered, “Unbelievable.” After making one complete circuit, I parked my vehicle two rows down and muttered curses under my breath as I exited the vehicle. My frustration caused my keys to dig into my hand with a great deal of power.

I had every intention of rushing up to the vehicle and leaving a letter of my own, which would be significantly less courteous than anything I could possibly conceive. Before I could do so, however, I became aware of something white that was fluttering beneath the windshield wiper. This is a note.

I was able to free it and unfold the paper by pulling it. The handwriting was perfect, almost lovely in its precision:

My apologies for the inconvenience. You will return very shortly.

555-** is the number to call if I am in your way. As I stared at it, I was both confused and angry at the same time. This is done by who?

Who is it that steals someone else’s designated spot and leaves their phone number behind, as if it were a calling card? Instinct triumphed over rational thought. I reached for my phone and dialed the number.

The one ring. There are two rings. After that, a tone of voice responded.

“Hi there?”

It was then that I snapped, “Yeah, you’re parking in my spot.” “The fourteenth number.”

According to the man, “Ah.” His tone was low and steady, and he seemed almost too composed. Please accept my apologies. I will relocate it without delay.”

There is no justification.

No annoyance at all. So that’s it. After waiting for two minutes, I went outside and saw a man coming out of my building.

He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt that was zipped up to his chin, a baseball cap that was pulled low, and strangely, dark sunglasses, despite the fact that the light had already been absorbed by the dusk. Unaware of my presence, he slipped into the Camry and drove away without looking in my direction. As I stood there, holding the note, I was completely bewildered.

My internal monologue was, “Well… that was quite peculiar.”

In the course of that evening’s meal, I shared the entire story with Sophie. My words came out as I twirled spaghetti onto my fork and remarked, “You are not going to believe what really took place.”

She puffed herself up, her green eyes glistening with the excitement of curiosity. “Give me a chance.”

There was a guy who stole my parking spot.

Made a note with his phone number and left it. As soon as I phoned, he had already moved. No inquiries, nothing at all.

Who carries out such an act? Sophie gave a hint of a smile. “To tell you the truth, that is quite considerate.

At the very least, he provided you with a means of communication with him rather than simply abandoning you. Is it thoughtful? I laughed it off.

“He stole my space,” I said. “However, still. Apologies would have been unnecessary for the majority of people.

It’s possible that he was in a hurry, or that he simply parked without giving it any thought. Even though I was feeling uneasy, I mumbled, “Perhaps it’s possible.” All of a sudden, something about the situation didn’t feel quite right. The thing, however, did not occur just once.

It occurred once more throughout the course of the subsequent three weeks. And once more. It is the same automobile.

In the same vein. Each time I called, I received the same courteous response. A sense of deliberateness began to emerge.

Every once in a while, it was twice a week. When three are present. It was always when I had a particularly difficult day at work, when my patience was at its lowest point, and when all I wanted to do was go home and rest.

Whenever I pulled into the parking lot, I would see the black Camry parked in my space, and I would feel the frustration rising up in my chest. To add insult to injury, the man would invariably show up within a few minutes after my call. The hoodie, the cap, and the sunglasses.

Quiet, swift, and gone before I could even formulate a query, they were gone. In the middle of the night, as Sophie was flipping through a magazine, I paced the living room and told her, “This is getting ridiculous.”

She uttered the words in a hushed tone, “Perhaps he is simply unaware of how much it stresses you out.”

“He is aware!” It is necessary for him to be aware. It is only when I am not at home that he parks there.

After that, he always leaves a letter behind, no matter what. “It’s like playing a game that’s kind of twisted.”

She laughed in a low voice. It’s also possible that he’s just forgetful.

It is not. Not at all, Sophie. This is done on purpose.

It’s getting to me.”

With a sigh, she shook her head and sighed. “Lucas, you are giving this a lot of thought. Get rid of it.”

But I was unable to.

When I asked Sophie about her plans for the weekend, she informed me that she was going to go out to breakfast with her buddy Rachel. While she was sliding on her heels, she murmured, “Don’t wait up here.” Following that, we might go out and do some shopping. Her cheek was kissed by me.

Have some fun. In addition, I will be absent for the majority of the day because I have a client meeting scheduled in Brookfield. However, there was a call from my employer twenty minutes later informing me that the meeting had been postponed.

“Lucas, I hope you have a wonderful weekend off!” he exclaimed with a smile. As a result, I made the decision to give it my all. In order to get a few things, I went to the grocery shop and drove there.

When I looked at it, I saw it. A Camry in black color. It was positioned in an awkward manner close to the entrance, as if it were the owner of the property.

To my ribcage, my heart smashed against the wall. As I got closer, I strained my eyes to see at the license plate. It was the same automobile.

It was the same person who had invaded my personal space on multiple occasions. “What are the chances of that happening?” I mumbled that. Will he continue to follow me?

As I went around the parking lot, I pretended to be looking for a spot, but in reality, I was keeping an eye on the entrance. For what seemed like an eternity, he finally made his appearance. a man who is wearing a hoodie.

Nevertheless, he did not wear his sunglasses this time. When I first laid eyes on his face, I noticed that he had a sharp jawline, a dark beard, and eyes that appeared to be too familiar for comfort. Also, he was not by himself.

He was accompanied by Sophie. The expression on her face was brighter than I’d seen it in months, and she was smiling at something he talked about. This caused her hair to fall loosely over her shoulders, and she approached him in a manner that was uncomfortably close.

Also, they were embracing each other. Everything appeared to be tilting. It is not.

“No, no, no,” I mumbled as I remained motionless behind the wheel of my vehicle. They strolled to the Camry in a nonchalant manner, as if this were the most natural thing that could possibly happen in the universe. Without any hesitation, she slid inside the vehicle once he opened the passenger door for her.

I am following. I have no idea why; perhaps I needed to demonstrate to myself that I had not dreamed it having happened. The fact that there was a different explanation than the one that seemed clear.

However, they drove directly to the apartment complex where I live. Directly to the parking spot I possess. After parking down the street, I watched with shaking eyes as they exited the vehicle.

In the same manner as he always did, he took another note out of the pocket of his hoodie and placed it beneath the windshield wiper. Following that, they entered the building together, their fingers intertwined as if they were a part of each other. All of a sudden, everything became clear.

For me, the notes were not intended. This was for Sophie’s benefit. It is a way.

It is a prod. His departure was indicated by the fact that I called him. Whenever I arrived at the upper floor, Sophie would be there for me, as innocent as she always is, with dinner on the stove or a grin waiting for me at the door.

During the affair that my wife was having, I had been the unintentional alarm clock. My legs were feeling heavy as I made my way up the stairs. There was no lock on our door.

It was vacant when I examined the bedroom. It was a deserted bathroom. After that, I became aware of it.

voices, coming from the balcony in the distance. As soon as I got outside, I saw them standing there. An embrace between my wife and the man who caused my stomach to turn caused me to feel sick.

When they saw me, they went and froze. A lack of color appeared on Sophie’s face. “L-Lucas,” she stutteringly said.

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My heart was cracking and hardening at the same time as I stared at each of them until I finally broke. “For how much longer?”

In her eyes, tears began to well up. That’s three months.

No, I’m sorry. I never intended to cause you any harm. I reiterated, “Three months,” with a hollow tone in my voice.

What about the notes? Isn’t that something that you came up with? She nodded while hiding her face with her hands, which were shaking.

“Clever,” I remarked with a dash of resentment before making my way back into the flat. Please, wait, Lucas! She shed a tear.

On the other hand, I did not. After gathering my belongings, I drove to a low-cost motel located on the outskirts of the city. At least there was silence, despite the fact that the linens smelled like bleach and the walls were discolored with the cumulative effect of years of neglect.

Thankfully, there was no black Camry parked in the spot I was in. I sent her a note the following morning, which read, “Do not call.” Do not send a text. I am going to file for divorce.

Subsequently, I turned off my mobile device. I had to look for a new location for three weeks before I found a little studio located across town. There is no parking assigned.

There are no notes. I only need room for my car and some breathing room to move about. Sophie made several attempts to get in touch with me, but I never picked up the phone.

Explanations were not necessary for me. An apology was not required of me. There are some words that are little more than noise.

As soon as I pull into the parking lot of my building, I am free to park wherever I choose. There is no one waiting. Nobody is keeping anything a secret.

There are times when the silence is oppressive, yet it is truthful. And after everything that has happened, honesty resembles a luxury. There are times when freedom does not feel like victory.

After holding your breath for an excessively long period of time, there are occasions when you simply feel like breathing again. This was the first time in a number of months that it was sufficient.