When Michelle moved into our quiet apartment building, we all hoped for the best. She was loud, flashy, and full of energy — a whirlwind of oversized sunglasses, wild red hair, and endless enthusiasm. But we quickly learned she had one major flaw: she refused to follow the building’s one golden rule — carry your key after 8 p.m. Instead, she pounded on doors, buzzed every apartment, and even knocked on bedroom windows to get in. Night after night, she woke us up, always laughing off our complaints like they were nothing.

At first, we were polite. I let her in more times than I could count, even when it was 3 a.m. and her breath smelled like tequila. But after weeks of interrupted sleep, frustration boiled over. The final straw came when she tapped on my bedroom window at nearly 3 a.m., giggling and calling my name like we were old friends. The next morning, the tenants gathered in the laundry room, exhausted and furious. That’s when Riley from 4C said what we were all thinking: if she won’t listen, maybe it’s time we speak her language.

So we did. The next night, I buzzed her apartment at 1 a.m. — just like she always did to us. Then Tiffany knocked on her door ten minutes later, pretending to “check on her.” Matt set off the buzzer again before sunrise. Every time Michelle forgot her key that week, we made sure she felt it. It was childish, maybe, but oh-so-satisfying. By day five, Michelle was a mess — disheveled, exhausted, and finally, apologetic.

She begged us to stop, admitting defeat. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll bring my key. Just let me sleep.” We agreed. And from that night on, we heard the sweet sound of her key turning in the lock — no more window tapping, no more late-night buzzing. Peace returned to Maple Street, and Michelle? Well, she finally learned what it meant to be part of a community.