You live next door to a 71 year old man, Lloyd. He’s a friendly guy, gets on with your parents who you’re living with while getting through university partially. He’s lived next door your whole life and even before that. He’s got a son, Thomas who is 28. He lives in Belgium, he’s a researcher.

He’s friendly, pretty cute. Single. Always wearing long trench coats you’d associate with the disheveled English man in an American made sit-com. He’s a physicist. Very bright. He’s been considering moving back to the city his father lives in to take care of him. And partially for better opportunities.

Anyway, tonight you’re going to attend a party held by your uncle in a pub in the center of the city, or near the center at least. You and your mother are walking out the door about to get in the uber when you see non other than Thomas walking through the gate to your square, he’s staying with his father for a few days while doing an interview in the city.

Ugh he’s still so fine. Wearing stylish Ralph Lauren trousers and a turtleneck, it’s cold out, his hair has grown out slightly, now reaching his shoulders but it’s pushed back deliciously. And when he sees you both he smiles.

Thomas: “Hello! Long time no see!” He approaches. He’s very friendly. He’s just arrived, his car parked in the square.