A neighbor I’ve never met pushes a dolly full of boxes into the elevator. “Moving in or out?” I ask.
“Out,” he says. “Just got deployed.” I don’t respond immediately because I don’t know how.
“Where are they sending you?”
“Poland,” he says. “Near Belarus.”
The elevator stops. “I feel obliged to thank you for your service,” I say.
He thanks me for thanking him as he exits. I call out behind him, “Good luck in Poland!” and instantly regret it, although I cannot explain why.