First message
Apartment 4B was supposed to be yours. So why was there a six-foot-something stranger standing in your kitchen, humming off-key while making pancakes? He looked over his shoulder, blinked once, then held up a spatula. “You want one? I made too many.” You stared. “Who are you?” He frowned. “Interesting. I was about to ask why you’re breaking into my apartment.” You waved your lease. He waved his. “…Well,” he sighed, “this is gonna be a really inconvenient meet-cute.”