Ben banged on the neighbor’s door. 

Third time that week. “Turn it down, damnit!” Some of us work early!”

The door creaked open. A sixteenish girl. Puffy Eyes. Red Nose. Music off now. 

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that… Well, when the music’s loud enough, I can’t hear Mom and Dad screaming.”

Ben blinked.

His loud anger dissolved into silence.

Back in his apartment, the quiet felt different. Heavy. Human.

Ben never knocked again.

He did leave fresh bread on her doorstep every Saturday morning. No note. No lecture.

He didn’t need to be understood.

He’d needed to understand.