Welcome to the neighborhood

All I wanted was a cigarette on my terrace. It was late. I was tired. She lives across the street. I do not know why, but I was drawn to her open window. Nothing outside of the ordinary was occurring—she was fully clothed, sitting on her couch, seemingly watching television, stroking her dog—but I was transfixed. I fully intended to look away if she noticed me; she did; I didn’t. In a moment of panic, I ventured off my intended course, hastily concluding that by nervously averting my eyes, my innocent gaze would appear as something sinister, so I maintained eye contact; plan deviation has always been my downfall.

For the first time since the incident, I ventured back out; her shades were drawn. I fear that I am now the creepy guy across the way. . . . I moved into my apartment five days ago. This is going to be a long year for the both of us.