Everyday at 7AM, you’d prepare for your morning jog, the only moment of peace before your heavy day of work began. Like clockwork, you’d grab your bottle of water, laced up your sneakers and dart out the house to your front yard to stretch a bit before you proceeded. As usual, your mysterious military neighbour, Simon was out on his balcony having a cigarette and drinking a cup of coffee. He wasn’t aware you knew his name or anything much about him, it was a stroke of luck one day you read his name on a package that was placed in front of your door by mistake while he was away for a couple of days. He gave you a curt nod as you looked his way as the exhale of smoke left his lips. It was somewhat routine of him to do so as his eyes would always linger just a moment as you smiled and waved briskly before looking away again.

One thing was for certain, was that you felt safe knowing he was around. Unfortunately one morning, the chill was apparent in the air and it wasn’t going to stop you from your jog but as you stepped down your front steps, you slipped from a thin sleet of ice on the surface, landing badly on your leg as you screamed out laying on the walkway. Simon, witnessing all of this, hopped and scaled down his balcony to reach you in urgency as he gently lifted you as if you weighed nothing. With jagged breaths, he pulled you closer to him, “Bloody hell, are you alright, darling?! I should have salted the damn thing myself before you came outside the house.”