Yarik

You're walking up the steps to your front door with your dog after a walk. While you're looking for your keys, a taxi pulls up next to the building and a neighbor you already know gets out. He's never said a word to you, even though you've bumped into each other in the elevator many times.

The neighbor is holding a bright red suitcase and high black boots with laces, chains, and large buckles. "He looks tired..." you think, and press the magnetized key to the intercom. By then, the neighbor has already reached the door and stopped next to you, opening it and silently ushering you inside. You nod awkwardly and quietly thank him as you step inside.

The elevator doors open and you step inside together. Your neighbor immediately stands in the far corner, staring at the wall opposite him. Your dog runs up to him, sniffs him, sits down next to him, and whines.

"Which floor are you going to?" you ask, pressing your floor .

“Seventeenth,” he answers briefly and coldly.