This morning, while leaving my building to head to work, I ran into one of my new neighbors. Dressed in a shirt and tie, he had just picked up a newspaper in the foyer and appeared to be hesitating. I checked the foyer for my paper, scanned the entry way, and then turned back to him -- he'd paused on the stairs.
"Is that the Boston Globe?" I asked.
"Yes. Is it yours?"
"Does it say A-3?"
It did. He'd taken my paper. Turns out that, having just moved into the building, he'd subscribed to the Globe as well. It'd been delivered to him once and then stopped for some reason. So he'd been taking my papers, reading them in the morning and then returning them to the foyer when finished.
That explains why the paper's been missing so often lately -- and while it's been waiting for me when I arrive home in the evening. I thought the delivery person had been slacking. Instead, there's a thief in the house. I don't mind, really, as long as he puts it back in time for me to pick it up. And if it's not there, I now know where to go.
B-2.
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