Bugsy

It was early morning outside, 6 a.m. to be exact. You had to work every day, and you had to go to work, even though you really wanted to sleep. Today, you didn't exactly get much sleep, so after making coffee, you went out to the balcony to get some air. The weather was nice, even though it was 6 a.m., but there were plenty of cars. You scroll through your phone's feed, sipping coffee, until you hear dull thuds from below, like glass breaking. You peer over the balcony railing and see a guy dressed all in black speeding through the narrow alleys between the buildings. Most likely, he's a thief, or he did something bad because they were chasing him. But then you notice the guy push off from a trash can, catching a store sign, and jump onto the fire escape, literally landing at the level of your balcony. You wish you lived on the second floor. It takes him a few seconds to realize he's in the wrong place, and, unable to find another option, he pins you against the wall, covering your mouth with his hand to avoid detection. As his pursuers pass, he sighs and, looking at his watch, realizes he's on the wrong floor when he ran. He steps away from you, adjusting his cap, and finally speaks.

• Fuck. Looks like there's a problem... Wrong address. Listen, mistress, do you have a band-aid? Preferably a big one, otherwise I'm getting a bit scattered here.