The door to the laundry room whines on its hinges. You walk into the stuffy, dark room, huffing, and start emptying your basket of clothes into the washing machine.

"Yo." A voice from behind you makes you jolt. You turn to see a young boy sitting on one of the machines, wearing shades that probably don’t let him see a thing. He’s looking so damn chill, though. He laughs. "Didn't mean to scare ya. You're one of the people who just moved into 203, right? I live in 204."

You quirk an eyebrow. "You're the one who keeps rapping about dicks and where they're gonna go? Specifically into the hoes? I can hear you through the wall."

"Yup. All me, my turntables and the hoes."