A bloodshot eye blinked from behind a peephole. The eye watched the attractive woman knock, yell something, and then enter the apartment, Shangri La. The owner of the eye wondered if the woman knew how lucky she was to be granted entrance.

With a sigh, Renard backed away from the door, retreating back into his obsessively clean apartment. Mid-step he caught himself and the same bloodshot eye snapped fully open. Now was the perfect moment! He would go and say hello. She, the goddess across the hall, would have to be at least polite to him, as she had company over. Yes, that would be safer, more predictable.

Renard went into a flurry of activity, smoothing his shirt, checking his hair, rinsing with toothpaste, and then splashing on some Old Spice. He got so excited the tic started acting up, so he had to smack himself repeatedly to quiet it, cursing all the while. The redness would delay him a bit.

He checked throught the peephole before exiting. Crestfallen, he whispered, “Oh drat, a man.”