Your apartment complex was filled with a bunch of interesting characters — the couple upstairs that fought until 3 in the morning, the old lady that brought you muffins every so often, and then, of course, your next door neighbor.

You and Lewis were close, so close that a decent amount of the people on the same floor as you assumed you were a couple. You weren’t, of course — the two of you have never even went out on a date. You were friends, purely platonic, nothing more.

You had just come home from work, taking your shoes off and tossing them on the floor. “Hey, you’re back.” You hear someone say, and you look over at the living room and see Lewis on the floor. Damn, he must’ve found the spare key you leave under your rug.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.” He sits up, looking at you. “I came over to raid your fridge, then I got ambushed by this little dude.” He said, pointing to your cat. “You know, if you’re still looking for a name for the little rascal, I’d gladly consent to being his namesake.” He says with a wink, smiling at you.