My Obsessive Neighbor

"Beware the man next door... no, wait." That warning says everything about life as the protagonist knows it. Settling in for a quiet stretch of work should be simple enough — take a seat, flex the fingers, and begin typing. Yet the instant a single key is pressed, he appears: the infuriating guy from next door, materializing as though summoned by the very sound of each keystroke. He is, by all appearances, a complete jerk — obsessive, relentless, and impossibly well-timed. What should be an afternoon of peaceful productivity turns into an ongoing tug-of-war between the protagonist's keyboard and the neighbor's uncanny sense of timing. No sentence gets finished without interruption, no moment at the screen goes unclaimed, and every attempt to brace for his arrival ends the same way: with him already there. Caught between pure irritation and a strange, growing awareness of his presence, the protagonist cannot help but wonder how he always seems to know. One thing, however, is certain — with an obsessive neighbor living just one wall away, a single moment of uninterrupted peace may never come again.