You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

A FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR

In 1968, while living in Lower Manhattan, I shared a sixth-floor walk-up flat with my sweetheart, Jennifer. It was a time when walking through Washington Square Park, I would find a frisbee flying to me with an invitation to join a group of hippies sitting in a circle on the grass. It was a year of anti-Vietnam war demonstrations which brought a sense of shared participation in an important cause.

This communal spirit was not seen in our apartment building, however. We passed four apartment doors on each of the five floors as we climbed up to our railroad flat. These doors were always closed. We knew no one in the building. There was one exception. He was a man who lived on the second floor. His door was usually open. He would always give us a friendly hello as we passed. His greetings gave the building a welcoming feeling. It had the appearance of the friendliness found among the hip folks in Washington Park.

Jennifer’s sister, Samantha, lived in the flat below ours. “Sam” was a unique individual. Her clothing and jewelry were distinctive. Her taste in men was similarly unconventional. Her man-friend, Tony, was one of a kind. A tall, lean, gregarious, and well-dressed black man with one gold earring and a warm smile. Tony was easy to like. His hipster appearance and friendly nature gave no hint of his risky profession. He was an on-call drug courier. He would receive a phone call, at any time of day or night, telling him where to pick up a freshly stolen credit card and a contact in the Los Angeles air terminal. He would then quickly retrieve the card, and purchase a round-trip flight: JFK- LAX-JFK. When on the ground in LAX, a stranger would hand him a package which he would immediately bring back to a drop located in Manhattan or Brooklyn. To avoid being arrested his travels had to be completed before the card was reported stolen. He knew none of the people with whom he did business and yet they trusted him with their valuable packages. For these high-risk trips, Tony was paid handsomely.

“Sam” came home to her flat one evening to find her door ajar. Someone had broken in and stolen her distinctive jewelry. She was devastated by the loss of her security as much as by the loss of her valuables. Tony assured her that he would try to get her things back. He had underworld connections. He also knew the local fences. Through them, he learned that there had been a series of robberies in our building. He contacted a number of fences until he found one who recognized the description of Sam’s unique jewelry. From the fence, Tony learned the identity of the thief. The same man had robbed several of our neighbors. The thief lived in our building. He was the friendly man who lived on the second floor. He knew who lived in each apartment and when they were out.

Tony waited until the thief left his apartment. Then Tony broke into it. He ransacked the place and found most of Samantha’s stolen items. Then, with a broad red marker, he scrawled the following note on the thief’s bathroom mirror: “GET OUT YOU DEAD FUCKER”.

When I came home from work that afternoon I passed the friendly man’s apartment. His door was left wide open once again, this time no one was there to greet us instead the open door revealed the chaotic mess left by Tony’s search and the hasty exit of our only friendly neighbor.