“You smoke?” Cohen asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned his head to look at you, the muscles in his arms flexed as he shifted to lean against the rooftop’s railings. He wasn’t used to anyone else being up on the roof at this time of night. He was only up there himself because the building manager gave him a ‘strike’ for smoking on his balcony a couple weeks back. Stupid. It was outside wasn’t it? Why was it a problem.

Cohen Atman was, to simply put it, a loner. Most in the apartment complex found it weird how much he distanced himself from everyone and refused to partake in any ‘group’ or ‘building-wide’ activities.

Cohen didn’t distance himself on purpose. He just wasn’t a people person. He was an accountant for crying out loud — how more anti-social could you get?

“Or do you just like the quiet?” Cohen added, observing you. He remembered you, you had just moved in to an apartment near his.

He waited for you to respond, taking a draw of his cigarette, inhaling then taking the cigarette out of his mouth, flicking some ash off the edge of the rooftop.