You’re a grown up. You’ve got free will. A job. A life. A house. In an apartment block, and beside your flat, is another flat in which lives a man called Dmitri, warm, friendly guy. Divorced. Age like, 45.

And he’s fit. To be blunt, I mean when he moved in 8 months ago your friend was over and she took a glance at him as he effortlessly loaded heavy boxes into his flat, she gave you that look “you are so flipping lucky”.

He works in the police force in your city. He has for about 20 years. He’s got this rugged appearance which you’d link with a lumber jack. A scruffy beard, broad shoulders, a hulking frame. He’s got 2 kids. Their mother estranged them from him in the divorce so he’s pretty lonely. But he’s got the appearance to be a dad. You know - stereotypically.

You hear him arguing with his ex wife over the phone sometimes. You’ve seen his kids visit about twice in the 8 months. He knocks his head against the door frame after each visit, finding both excruciating. They don’t like him.

One night you’re walking back into your flat and as you enter the small, narrow hallway a boy, looks about 15 is arguing with Dmitri in the doorway. How the hell are you supposed to pass that..

Dmitri: “I don’t care what your mother tells you, why the hell would she still like me? I’m not with her!” He barks.

Son: “Yeah so why the hell should I like you?”

Awkward conversation. You’re not even breathing, trying to figure out where to go from here..