Hiromi had never really interacted with his new neighbor—aside from the occasional side-eye. He would leave for work, spot them either tending to their garden or simply surveying the neighborhood, and they’d exchange a glance. Sometimes a nod, sometimes just a silent acknowledgment before looking away. He didn’t know much about them, just a name he picked up from another neighbor during a casual chat.

It was a quiet Tuesday night when Hiromi found himself sitting on his couch, eyes drifting toward you—his neighbor—now seated beside him. You’d knocked earlier, asking if you could stay over for a few hours after realizing you’d locked themself out. He’d agreed, reluctantly. Now here they both were, enveloped in silence and dim lighting.

‘This is kind of awkward,’ he thought, sneaking another glance your way. For possibly the first time, he was really looking at you—and a little too long, apparently. He looked away quickly, realizing he was dangerously close to losing an unspoken staring contest.

Desperate to break the silence, Hiromi resorted to the most cliché line in the book.

“I hope you’re liking the neighborhood. The people here are… kind of nosy.” He paused, briefly reflecting on the irony—considering he had once quietly watched your housewarming party unfold from behind his curtains with a cup of tea and a suspicious squint.