Published: 2025-10-29

It was a Friday night, and Luisa had just arrived home after a long day of work. Her feet hurt, as they were supposed to after almost eight hours standing up. Supermarkets across the country had decided that cashiers and chairs were to be mortal enemies, and there was nothing workers could do about it. Luisa was not the complaining type.

Her bare apartment would make the average person feel claustrophobic, but Luisa preferred to see it as “minimalist” and “cozy”; after all, the life of a university student was not one of luxury.

She took her shoes off once in the living room, and opening the mini-fridge that stood next to the sofa, stared at the box of wine that sat next to a half white onion.

Her cupboard was notorious for harboring nothing but plastic glasses with colorful designs. Luisa considered them worthy enough of her not-so-refined wine election.

She filled her blue plastic glass to the brim and lay down on the sofa, the top of the mini-fridge serving as a coffee table. The wine tasted sweet and sour, but to her unrefined palate, it was as good as the finest Bordeaux.

Luisa looked at her feet as she wiggled her toes. Behind them, there was a window. No curtains covered it; it was a deliberate decision made to fit the minimalist lifestyle imposed by a poor salary. Behind the window, obstructed by her wiggling toes, a man in a red fedora watched her.

She got startled, making the wine glass topple over the sofa and soak her hair. She let a scream out as the cold liquor dripped over her, leaving a stain on the light gray couch.

She peered through the window, her head leaning against the wooden frame, but there was nobody there.

“This is the second floor, Luisa. A man would have to be 15 feet tall to reach the window.” She told herself as she closed the window.

She stood in front of the sofa, looking at the amoeba-shaped stain. She knew getting it cleaned would cost her money. She decided better not to think about the wasted wine.

Now, with a bucket of soapy water in one hand and a sponge in the other, her Friday night had turned into cleaning night. She sighed; it had to be done.

“I can’t believe I just wasted a glass of perfectly good wine.” She said as she scrubbed the sofa’s cushions.

She raised her gaze and screamed; the bucket of water fell from her hands, spilling over the floor. The man with the red fedora stood behind her; she could see his reflection in the cabinet's glass door. She turned around, the man was gone.

Her body was shaking, her face turned pale, her skin was cold. She was now sure someone was out to get her.

“Calm down,” she told herself, “first call the police.”

She dialed 911. As it rang, she walked to the door and locked it. An operator finally picked up the phone.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi, um, I’m being harassed by a man.”
“Are you in a public or open place?”
“No, I’m at home.”
“Is the harasser inside your domicile?”
“No. I don’t think so, he was peering through the window, and then I saw his reflection in my kitchen.”
“Is he someone you know?”
“I—”

Luisa’s back leaned on the wooden door as someone knocked three times with authority. She left a scream out, her cellphone fell to the floor, its screen shattered.

“Oh, god, he’s here.”

She covered her face with her spread-out hands as if trying to hide from the harasser. She collapsed to the floor. A voice, although faint, called her name; she snapped out of her trance.

“Luisa! Luisa, it’s me. Johnathan.”

Johnathan was her landlord.

She stood up, her legs faltering, and opened the door. Johnathan stared at her, her blond hair wet and tainted red, and the stench of cheap wine emanating from her body.

“I came after hearing you scream multiple times. What happened to you?”

She broke down in tears.

“It’s this man; he keeps harassing me. He keeps peering through my windows. I’ve started to fear for my life.”

The woman he saw was clearly one traumatized by fear, and yet, he doubted the legitimacy of her claims.

“Have you been drinking?”
“What?”
“Because you look like you have been drinking.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Maybe you imagined it.”

No more tears came from Luisa’s green eyes; her fear had become indignation. How dare he doubt her words?

“I didn’t imagine it, Johnathan. I had a sip of wine before getting startled by that creep and spilling it over. Is that answer good enough for you?”

Johnathan didn’t doubt her sobriety anymore. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a nod of understanding.

“I’ll take a look around and make sure you’re safe. Is that OK?”

Luisa nodded.

Johnathan ventured into the apartment, searching every nook and cranny for a possible, but no one besides the two of them seemed to have entered the apartment that night.

Luisa waited by the front door; the most curious of the neighbors started to congregate outside her apartment, asking awkward questions that she tried to evade.

Johnathan emerged from the apartment, noticing the presence of intrusive neighbors.

“That should fix your gas leak, just make sure to open the windows and don’t turn on the stove until tomorrow, OK?”
“OK.”
“Goodnight, Luisa.”
“Goodnight, and thanks.”

He gave her a smile and left, closing the door behind him.

Luisa sighed, “Maybe I should call it a day.” She thought. She walked into the shower and let the water run through her sticky hair. Red water swirled around the shower drain.

She put on her pajamas and jumped into bed. She had never been happier to lie in bed. The lights turned off, and in her makeup mirror, the face of a man with a red fedora was reflected. Luisa let a scream out.

THE END.