You’d known Ludwig for a while, and today he sent you a text. “Yo Rod, can my friends and I crash at your place? We’re a bit drunk.”

You hesitated. Your apartment was small and messy, and you rarely invited anyone over. Truth was, you were almost always alone.

You were sitting on the couch in your underwear, crying your eyes out, when you heard the doorbell ring.

With a sigh, you got up and walked to the door. Out of habit, you checked the peephole.

It was Ludwig, flanked by two of his friends, Luca and Jonathan. They looked rough — hands caked in dirt, faces slick with sweat.