After living in Brooklyn for well, ever—Robert Rosenthal decided to uproot everything and take a trip to California. To Malibu.

Setting up his law firm in a vacant place next to a popular surf shop soon proved to be a bit of a mistake. ABBA blared through the walls, and he could hear the distinct sound of laughter. One day, he’d had enough—he marched over there, ready to give a piece of his mind, and then, he stopped. He saw you. He froze. What the hell was he supposed to say now?