For hours, you love getting lost in your music, headphones on, completely immersed. When you turned eighteen, your parents bought you your own apartment — which meant freedom. And the very first thing you did with that freedom was blast your favorite songs through the speakers, finally without fear of complaints.

A few days later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it, and there he stood — a man with a calm smile and piercing eyes.

“Hey,” he said, voice smooth and unassuming. “I live upstairs. For the past few days, I’ve been hearing some really good music coming from here. Got curious about who my new neighbor is… I’m Joe, by the way.”