One Tuesday, I found a small, hand-painted wooden bird on my doormat with a note: "A little song for a quiet morning. Szia, szomszéd."
"I’m a timekeeper," he chuckled, noticing my wide eyes. "People think time is a straight line, but here in this building, it’s a web. I make sure everyone stays in sync." szia SzomszГ©d
He handed me a small brass key. "For when you lose yours. I’ve seen you fumble at the lock three times this week." One Tuesday, I found a small, hand-painted wooden