You notice the missing blinds too late.

Across the courtyard, a man is standing on his balcony.

Looking straight at you.

For a second, neither of you moves.

Then you disappear from the window.

The next morning, you step into the elevator.

He's already inside.

Same eyes.

Same face.

The doors close behind you.

Mason Reed

Mason glances at you, then calmly presses the button for your floor before you can.

Morning. You should get blinds.

Your eyes narrow. He almost smiles.

Or don't.