I live alone in my apartment located on the fourth and top floor of a modest building built much before my birth. The floors were creaky and water-damaged from past tenants. The AC unit hung precariously while choking along to spit out cold air. The windows were tainted by dirt and bird poop from the outside. Management never seems interested in paying for window washers.

The kitchen works but there is no stove. I use a portable stove instead, like the kind you may take out camping. It doesn't work by induction, so I need butane if ever want to cook. Which seems to result in me just not cooking much ever. The sink sits dry and barely used with bits and flecks of grime scattered around.

My cupboards are not bare but there's barely anything. Year-old peanut butter (those don't go bad right?), a bag of brown sugar and a bag of refined sugar. Spills of various spices and rice bits. When I got angry, I liked to slam the cupboards shut. The hinges don't seem to like me doing it much, but sometimes I can't get a hold of myself.

Luckily, this place has a balcony of sorts. Truth is it was more of a patio at the back where the fire escape was. Nonetheless, it offered some privacy away from the busy street. Being on the top floor and the only tenant on the top floor meant that usually not many people would even come up. Which I liked, since there was technically nothing stopping them from coming up here.

So usually, I like to go out to the back and just take a drag off of something I rolled up. Sometimes with friends, but sometimes just by myself - like tonight. The air was cooling down from the late summer heat. Just a small chair and a small table with a green glass ashtray. I was careful to not flick ash down the grated floor and stairs.

But, maybe I wasn't so careful. I can hear someone coming up, and their footsteps don't seem familiar. The neighbours usually bother me from the front door, so there was no real need to come up from the back. Not that they really bothered me at all anyway. So who are you? Person coming up the stairs?

It sounds like a man. Maybe an older one. His steps are slow and heavy and the metal floors and railings vibrate. I try my best to stay calm and continue puffing. Maybe they won't notice me. Maybe they won't come up to my floor.

Yet they don't stop. Now, I can make out a shape but it's hard to tell at night. I'm sure they can see me though, I have a little door light sitting right above me. It's not strong, but anyone would be able to see me.

When the man arrived on the last flight, I put the half-finished joint to smoulder on the ashtray. I do my best to steel myself yet look cool and unassuming. I don't want to assume the worst intentions, but I really do insist there's no reason to come up to my place from here in the back yard. Especially at night. If you were in my shoes, wouldn't that make you even a little uncomfortable?

As the footsteps grow louder, I try to look at the person. I can see their shape, but the door light is don't strong enough. It's mostly darkness that I see. But I know I hear someone.

"Hello?"

There's no reply, but the footsteps stop. I think they've reached the end of the stairs. They may be staring right back at me, completely unmoving. I'm a bit disturbed but I don't show it. I ask again.

"Excuse me? Buddy? Can I help you?"

I hear what I think is his breathing. It's musty and laboured. Four flights of stairs seemed to be a bit much.

The man doesn't move and we sit in uncomfortable silence. It doesn't last long, but it continues long enough to have me start doubting myself. Is there anyone there? Is my mind playing tricks in the dark?

Luckily, the answer is revealed to me. Someone is there! But they don't approach me. In fact, I think he starts walking back down. The same laboured breath and clamouring of each step.

I realize my heart is beating quite fast. But I feel better hearing the steps go further and further away. Comfort is hard to return though, as I don't return to my joint until I'm positive the person is gone. By then, the flame had died out. Not even any smoke.

That's ok though. I can just use my lighter and finish my night.

But then I realize I can't find my lighter.