Writers operate under different constraints than academics. University schedules allow flexibility for unexpected disruptions, but freelance deadlines impose rigid time management. Missing publication dates affects income directly, something tenure-track positions insulate against.
Her complaint becomes more understandable when viewed through economic rather than merely personal lens.
Evening arrives with characteristic London drizzle. Building sounds shift as residents return from work, settle into domestic routines. Footsteps in the hallway, keys in locks, muffled conversations through inadequate insulation.
I wait until eleven PM. Late enough to ensure privacy, early enough to avoid seeming secretive. The note feels heavierthan paper should, weighted with implications beyond simple apology.
The hallway stretches longer than usual. Victorian proportions that seem designed for more formal interactions, not surreptitious note delivery between strangers. My footsteps sound unusually loud against hardwood floors, despite conscious effort to move quietly.
4C. Identical door to mine, but with subtle personal touches. Small welcome mat, obviously well-used. Brass nameplate readingM. Ruizin simple block letters. No decorative elements, but everything meticulously maintained.
Details suggesting someone who values order but doesn't prioritize ostentation. Professional approach to personal space.
I kneel beside her door, note positioned for easy discovery without requiring her to venture into hallway. The gap beneath her door seems wider than mine, possibly adjusted for mail delivery or ventilation purposes.
Light shows underneath. Still awake, probably working. Writers maintain irregular schedules, particularly freelancers managing multiple projects. My timing might actually prove convenient rather than intrusive.
The note slides easily across threshold, disappearing into her private domain. No sound of immediate discovery, which could mean either she's in another room or choosing not to investigate unexpected paper delivery.
I retreat to my own flat before curiosity overcomes discretion.
But something keeps me near the door. Not surveillance, that would violate the trust her courteous complaint represents. Just awareness. Attention to acoustic cues that might indicate her response.
Footsteps. Light, measured. Approaching her door from inside.
Paper rustling. Brief pause.
More footsteps, retreating.
Then silence.
No immediate response suggests either positive reception or need for consideration time. Both scenarios seem preferable to instant rejection or formal escalation.
I return to my linguistic notebooks, but concentration remains scattered. Hungarian love letters feel particularly absurd now, given my inability to manage basic social interaction with actual neighbors.
"Minden nap arra gondolok, hogy milyen gyönyöru vagy."
The words echo differently tonight. Less academic exercise, more pointed reminder of personal isolation. Six languages of romantic vocabulary, but no practical experience with relationship navigation.
Maybe that's what makes M. Ruiz's note so unsettling. Not the complaint itself, but the implicit suggestion of possible human connection. Someone who notices my presence, pays attention to my activities, considers my impact on her life.
Even negative attention represents more personal engagement than I typically experience.
University colleagues maintain professional distance. Students view me as educational resource rather than individual person. Immigration authorities see documentation rather than human being.
But M. Ruiz wrote a personal note. Used courtesy rather than formal channels. Extended opportunity for dialogue rather than demanding immediate compliance.
Neighborly consideration I haven't experienced since...
Since before the exile, really. Before constant relocation made sustained relationships impossible.
The thought unsettles me more than her original complaint.
Because part of me—the part that collects love letters in six languages, that practices romantic phrases I'll never use—part of me wants to respond to her courtesy with something beyond simple apology.
Wants to explain about the linguistic research, the cultural preservation work, the academic passion that drives morning pronunciation exercises.
Wants to ask about her writing projects, her deadline pressures, her choice to work from home rather than traditional office environment.
