I ended up in my neighbors will

A few months ago, I moved into a new apartment building. First time living alone. First time realizing I have *no* idea how to cook rice without Googling it.

Anyway, my neighbor across the hall is an older lady named Mrs. Kaplan. She’s like 80-something, walks with a cane that has a tiny built-in flashlight (respect), and wears a robe with embroidered cats on it. Big grandma energy.

One day, I helped her carry her groceries up the stairs because the elevator was broken. She gave me a butterscotch candy and said, *“You’re a good boy. Just like my grandson.”*

I thought she was being sweet and nostalgic. Nope.

She started calling me “Ben.” My name is not Ben. But every time I corrected her, she just squinted at me and went, *“Don’t be difficult, Ben.”*

So I gave up. I became Ben.

She’d knock on my door with Tupperware full of mysterious casseroles and say things like, *“Eat this. You’re too skinny. Ben was too skinny too. Poor thing.”*

I figured hey, free food. Who am I to argue?

Fast forward: one day she invites me to a “family dinner.” I assume it’s just her and maybe a cat. Nope. I walk in, and half her *actual family* is there. They stare at me like, “Who is this guy?” And she proudly announces:

*“Everyone, this is Ben. He’s back from Tokyo.”*

Now I’m locked into this *insane* roleplay where I apparently lived in Tokyo, work in "tech," and still play the trumpet. I haven’t touched a trumpet since middle school band, but I nod and smile like I’m auditioning for a Netflix series.

Here's the twist: she *knows*. She later pulled me aside and said, *“I know you're not Ben. But I like having you around.”*

Last week, she called me over to help fix her TV, and offhandedly mentioned, *“You’ll take the cat figurines when I’m gone, right? I already put it in the will.”*

So now… I’m inheriting cat figurines. Because I became someone else’s grandson by accident.

And honestly? I think Ben would’ve wanted it that way.

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