It was at dusk on a certain summer day. The evening sun blazed into my room, scorching everything in its path. So annoying. Too bright. I moved to quietly close the curtains. As I did, I caught sight of a strange scene in the window of the apartment building across the street.
It was a moment I shouldn’t have witnessed. A young woman with a ponytail, clad in a bathrobe, was screaming at someone. At least, that’s how it looked to me.
Thinking I might catch a glimpse of something through the gaps in her robe, I strained my eyes. Suddenly, she looked right at me. My heart leaped. Crap. Her expression turned blank for a split second, but then she immediately beamed a smile and stared my way. I instinctively slammed the curtains shut. Diving straight into bed, I fell into a deep sleep, hoping that time would simply wash the embarrassment away.
The next morning, having completely forgotten the previous day’s events, I headed toward the station for work. Just as I stepped out of my building, the woman from yesterday came walking toward me with a deadpan expression.
Oh no, I’m done for. Sensing my impending doom, I stood frozen with a blank look on my face. To my surprise, she approached me with a laugh.
“What are you doing? I have a favor to ask you.”
For a moment, I couldn’t process what was happening.
“Uh, I… well…” I stammered, having no idea what to say.
“Do you have a moment? Actually, come with me even if you don’t. You wouldn’t dare refuse my request, would you?”
She started walking. I stood there, dazed. She turned back, her face hardening as she began to say something. Before she could finish, I blurted out:
“I am coming right now!”
I followed her in silence, led like a lamb to the slaughter. We eventually reached the door of what appeared to be her apartment.
“Go in. There’s someone I need you to take down,” she said, opening the door.
I was aghast. Was she seriously asking me to take down the person she had been arguing with yesterday?
“What’s wrong? If you can’t do it, we’re going to be in big trouble.”
I steeled my resolve.
“Where is he?”
“He went into the kitchen. Please. Crush him.”
Guided by her, I headed to the kitchen. There, I stood in shock.
The kitchen was empty. I’d been tricked. I turned to leave immediately.
“What are you doing?! Right there!! He’s right there!! Behind you!!” she screamed, her face pale. I looked behind me. And there he was. I sighed, utterly exasperated with myself.
There, clinging to the wall, was a cockroach. It was scurrying energetically across the surface.
“Hurry!! Get it!! It’s going to get away!!” she shrieked.
Fueled by sheer annoyance, I grabbed the cockroach and crushed it in my bare hand.
“Is this enough for you?” I said to her quietly.
“Yes. Thank you,” she said, looking startled.
“Then, excuse me.”
Leaving those words behind, I walked out of her room and broke into a run, fleeing the scene. The truth was, I absolutely loathed cockroaches. As soon as I got back to my own room, I scrubbed my hands as if my life depended on it.
From that day on, I made it a rule to close my curtains as soon as evening fell.
