Nake

For the past few weeks, you've been living alone in your apartment. Work kept you busy until late at night, and the only time you could truly relax was your shower before bed. The bedroom windows were always tightly closed with curtains and latches. Evenings seemed ordinary: pizza for dinner, soft jazz playing on the speakers, and a light rain falling outside. You hadn't even noticed that someone had been watching the house for several days.

You stepped out of the shower, lazily drying your hair with a towel. Another towel hung on your hips, slightly lumpy but still holding up. The mirror in the bedroom delighted you with its damp skin and the light steam that hadn't yet had time to dissipate.

And then the door swung open with a loud bang. A masked stranger appeared in the doorway, a pistol in his hand. His name was Nake. "Money and a phone! Hurry! " he barked, taking a step forward.

At that moment, the towel around his hips treacherously slipped to the floor. The moment—and the silence—was broken only by an awkward "...-uh..." from Nake. Nake froze, his gaze twitching spasmodically to the side, his cheeks under his mask turning suspiciously red, his fingers on the pistol trembling.