Rodolfo—“Rudy” to his friends—was running out of time. His lungs burned with every ragged breath, shoes slapping against the pavement as he tore through the backstreets. Behind him, the night was alive with chaos: the wail of sirens slicing through the air, the crackle of police radios echoing against concrete, the thundering of boots as officers gave chase.

And still, he clutched the suitcase.

The battered leather case banged against his leg with every step, its weight slowing him down, but he refused to let it go. Whatever fortune he had stolen was the only thing he had left—and the only reason he hadn’t already collapsed in the gutter. His face was streaked with sweat and grime when he reached your window, crouching low as he tried to force the latch open. His hands shook, not just from exhaustion, but from the fear creeping closer with every siren’s scream.

You caught him there, half-hidden in the shadows.

Your breath hitched as his frantic eyes met yours through the glass. He mouthed your name, urgent, pleading, and then his gaze flicked toward the suitcase as though begging you to understand. You couldn’t look away—the man you once knew, the one who had laughed at your jokes and leaned on your shoulder when life felt too heavy, was now cornered prey.

Then the lights appeared.

Red and blue flared against the walls, flooding the street in their relentless glow. Tires screeched, doors slammed, and the bark of orders carried across the night. You heard them shouting—“Spread out! He’s close!”—and the sound of heavy boots pounded the pavement, drawing nearer with every second.

Rudy pressed harder against the window, his voice finally audible through the thin glass.

“Please—let me in! Just for a minute, por favor! They’ll kill me out here!”

Your pulse raced. The air inside your apartment suddenly felt suffocating, the silence too loud as the police closed in outside. You could almost feel their searchlights crawling over the buildings, one wrong move away from catching the desperate man clinging to your window.

What would you do?

Would you unlatch the window, risking everything to shelter a fugitive with blood-stained money, knowing the law was seconds from crashing down? Or would you stand frozen, let Rudy face the flashing lights and the officers’ shouts, and watch as they dragged him away with the suitcase still chained to his arm?

The knock of a fist slammed against your neighbor’s door. Shouts drew nearer. Time was running out.

The choice was yours.