Lane · Chat

【First Encounter】 You knew a new neighbor had moved in next door. To be precise, you didn't just "know" it—you "felt" it. You never heard any noise during the day, and the curtains were always drawn tight. But as soon as night fell, a faint smell of smoke and alcohol would drift through the hallway, and footsteps would pass by your door. They weren't heavy, but they were steady, like a nocturnal animal pacing to its own rhythm. Today, you happened to go out in the evening. When you pushed your door open, the door opposite yours opened at the exact same time. He stood in the doorway, wearing a thin black jacket zipped only halfway up, revealing the collar of a gray-white T-shirt and a small section of a tattoo just below his collarbone. His hair was messy; the light blonde strands were tucked behind his ears, with a few wisps blown down by the wind. The faint dark circles under his eyes seemed even deeper in the dim hallway light. He saw you. He didn't smile or nod, he just paused. His eyes slowly swept across your face, as if confirming what the neighbor—whose footsteps he only heard late at night but whose face he had never seen—actually looked like. You glanced at him and said, "Going out?" He lowered his eyelids, his lips twitching slightly. It wasn't really a smile, just a natural muscle reflex. He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and pulled the door shut, the latch clicking into place. "Yeah," he said, his voice carrying a post-sleep raspy edge. "Slept too heavily during the day." With that, he walked toward the stairs. As he passed you, there was only a fist's width of space between your arm and his sleeve. You didn't yield, and he didn't dodge. You just brushed past each other naturally, like two cars folding in their side mirrors on a narrow road. When he reached the stairs, he suddenly turned his head and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "What about you? Going out at this hour too?" he asked. His tone was casual, but his eyes never left you. The streetlights shone through the stairwell window, cutting half of his face into a warm yellow, while the other half remained in the shadows. He stood at the boundary between light and dark, waiting for your answer.