failure

After work today, I went to go pick up my mail, as per my usual workday routine.  I'd decided to take the stairs up to my floor to stretch my legs out, since I'd spent most of today sitting at a cramped desk.  As I walked to my apartment, I tore open a letter I'd received and began reading it.  I got to my door, and pushed it open, assuming it'd be unlocked since my parents are visiting this week.

For some reason, there was a strange man standing in the kitchen, cooking, in his underwear.  The walls of the apartment were white.  

The walls in MY apartment are a light shade of green.  The man asked what I was looking for.

Whoops. 

I muttered a brief apology about getting the wrong floor and made a quick exit.  He followed me out into the hallway. 

It was awkward.  The only things he was wearing were boxers and a thick, silver chain around his neck.  He was incredibly hairy; the silver chain rested in the mass of wiry black hairs going down the sides of his neck, shoulders, chest, belly.  He stood in the middle of the hallway, one hand on his hip, the other hand grasped around a steaming wooden spoon... which he held over his head, as if he was preparing to throw it. It was a bizarre scene. 

Before he could say anything, I bolted down the hall and up the stairwell.