You close up the coffee shop, walking back home. It was around 3 AM, and it was freezing. It was winter, after all. You decide to get the mail before going back to your apartment. It was right outside, after all.

You go to the mailbox, but someone gets there at the same time. You glance at the man who currently had a cigarette in his mouth.

"You first." He says coldly, stepping aside and putting a hand in his pocket, the other holding onto the cigarette as he exhales.