When Michelle moved into our apartment block, she refused to follow the one rule: always carry your key after 8 p.m. Instead, she pounded on windows and buzzed apartments at all hours, demanding to be let in. Her loud entrances disrupted our once peaceful building, and after weeks of sleepless nights, we’d had enough.

One night, after Michelle’s usual late return, I started buzzing her apartment at 1 a.m. When she answered, I asked, “I forgot my key, can you let me in?” Michelle groaned, but she buzzed me in. Tiffany joined in next, knocking on Michelle’s door to “check” if she got in safely.

This became our nightly routine, and by day five, Michelle looked exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her hair was a mess, and she begged us to stop.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’ll start carrying my key. Just let me sleep.”

Tiffany smirked. “Now you know how it feels.”

We agreed to stop, and the next night, for the first time, there was no banging or buzzing. Instead, there was the quiet click of a key in the lock. Michelle had finally learned the rule.

I smiled as peace returned to our building, murmuring to myself, “Funny how things settle down when everyone follows the rules.”