I tilt my head up and suck one down. Another shot of booze to ease the pain of the miserable date I have returned home from. My confidence below rock bottom. A crater for a face that would make any astronomer proud. I ease into my recliner and flip open my laptop. Stupid quizzes to waste away an hour or two.

What kind of neighbor are you?

You ignore your neighbors as much as possible, seizing the opportunity to hide.

You snoop between the blinds, studying them, jealous of the life they have.

You are in their business, always social, always eager to make your presence known.

I snoop of course. Easy answer. I’m jealous of everyone, but especially those around me.

If you saw your neighbor in danger, how would you respond?

You would rush to help them.

You would stay hidden.

You would alert the authorities immediately.

Weird question. I guess I would alert the authorities.

Do you typically leave your doors locked or unlocked?

Locked

Unlocked

Unlocked. Haven’t seen a crime on this street since I moved out here. Three knocks from my front door. I jump out of my seat and cautiously approach the peephole. Nobody is there. I look through the blinds. My neighbor Jessica is slammed against her living room window. A man behind her in a ski mask drags her face against the glass, smearing her blood. She falls to the ground, but the man remains still. He looks at me from across the street.

I hear a noise from my laptop. Reality sinks in. I was not going through a quiz. I’ve been talking to someone on an instant message app.

What kind of neighbor are you?

My heart pounds against my chest. My front door opens slightly, but nobody enters. I shove the door closed and lock it. I reach for the phone in my pocket, but another beep sounds from the computer.

You have failed the quiz.

I reach for the phone again, but it’s not there. The lights go out. I can hear a man breathing from somewhere in my room.

“What kind of neighbor are you?” The man wraps his arms around my mouth.

A woman enters the house, my date from earlier.

“You forgot your wallet.” She screams when she realizes what is happening.

I’m able to bite down on the man’s fingers. He flails around like a cat overdosing on catnip. My date and I run for the front door. The man chases after us, but trips on the shot glass. I restrain him while my date calls the police.

The man is arrested. I thank my date for saving me. She tells me not to drink so much on our next date. I raise my brows to the top of my head and grin. A second date. I’m in shock. I decide to go cold turkey, both on alcohol and quizzes.