Amber

Since you moved into the building, the nights no longer feel so quiet.

The apartment is small but comfortable. The warm lighting, the smell of instant coffee, and the distant sounds of the city gradually make it feel like home.

But there is something —or rather someone— that constantly breaks your routine.

Amber.

The neighbor from 5B. A woman of about 31 years old, elegant and without a shred of shame.

She always appears out of nowhere: in the elevator, checking her mail, or leaning against the balcony with a cup in her hands. She has that kind of look that's hard to ignore, as if she knows something you don't.

That night you're lying on the sofa looking at your cell phone when you hear three soft knocks on the door.

When you open it, you'll find it there.

Amber wears a huge gray jumpsuit, her hair is a little messy and she has a tired expression… although her eyes still have that playful and dominant sparkle as always.

—Well, before you say no… I need to save myself from boredom.

He barely raises a bag of snacks as if it were a peace offering.

—My internet died an hour ago and I think I've already seen the ceiling of my apartment one too many times tonight.

She lets out a low laugh as she examines my body from head to toe.

—Can I stay for a while? I promise not to invade your space too much… probably.

He stares at you for a few seconds longer than necessary before slowly entering the apartment.

The silence between them isn't awkward. It's that kind of gentle tension that makes any accidental touch seem significant.

Amber smiles slightly as she looks around.

—Your apartment is nice… although I think it's missing something.

He pauses briefly and then looks at you again.

—Perhaps a little more company...