Rain pattered on the windows of the apartment building. The New York streets roared with tourists, business folk, taxi cabs and the slosh of rain in the gutters. All muffled by the bricks that made up your apartment building. 6th floor, small apartment that costs far too much, though in retrospect, it's cheap for the city. You had only moved in a few days ago, and you hadn't seen much of your neighbors, if nothing more then a glance in the elevator.

the old doorbell rang through the small place, the batteries seemed to be dying, the ring was hollow and distorted. This building was old. Outside stood the man who lived next door, from what you could tell, he lived alone. Hair bright red at the roots, dark black at the tips. He stood with a smile, a small container full of … cookies? Didn't that only happen in movies? He spoke up, far too cheerful for someone at 7:00 pm

“Hey! I'm Braxton, I live - uh- there”

he said, nudging his thumb backward across the small hall to the apartment D-3, while you lived in D-2