Last night, I returned home to find five adolescent males loitering outside my apartment. One of them was smoking a cigarette and the other four were on their phones. As I scanned into the building, the five of them followed me inside without a word.

When the elevator opened, I scanned my floor and they entered with me. No one pressed another floor. They stood silently between me and the exit, the room filling with cigarette smoke. One of the jackets smelt of alcohol.

The door opened and I excused myself. They shuffled to let me pass. As I turned the corner, I realised that the five of them were walking with me to my room.

It only struck me then that something potentially insidious was unfolding. The boys didn’t look threatening, but there was the potential for intoxication and with that, violence, and anything could happen then. I began to panic inside, until my neighbour opened the door.

“You can’t smoke in here,” he said. The person rubbed the cigarette out on his jacket and muttered a soft apology.

“You boys alright?” He asked. A silence emerged as the five glanced at each other, before walking away without a word. As they turned, I noticed one of them was carrying an empty beer bottle in his jacket.

All I could manage was a short “thank you”. He waved it off, as if this was a commonplace occurrence and didn’t just potentially save my life.

With the boys gone, we exchanged a few words, and for the first time, had a real conversation. I learnt his name, that he used to work in the ADF, and was renting as part of a year-long travel itinerary with his wife. After a while, we bid each other farewell, and I locked my door with a smile.

“Tonight, I could have been hurt, mugged, or died, but made a friend instead,” I wrote in my journal. Blessings can arise from the most unexpected of situations.