Thats Not my Neighbor. (Francis x y/n 1st person)

The Shoemaker, the Milkman, and the Chef.

The shoemaker, the milkman, and the chef. That's the rest of the list. The rest that I have to do myself, not including any doppelgängers that cross my path.

I sit with my right leg tapping the floor repeatedly. I really forgot what I was here to do, didn't I? I got too comfortable. This is what I get.

"Hey, i'll be right here. If you have any questions just ask, okay?" He reassures me, yet it does nothing to ease my nerves. I'd kill to be anyone else in the world right now.

My leg shakes erratically. Bouncing up and down to no particular beat. Casey observes me from behind. The only noise that fills the room is our breathing.

Buzz

The door opens and a man who's not on the list enters. A man with an abnormally - but not unnaturally large nose enters the room. He has a unibrow and an unhealed scar on his right chin. His olive eyes match the strange dark purple covering his nose.

"Is this a real person? Does he usually look like this?" I turn and ask Casey.

He chuckles and nods. I turn back around and the guys documents are already slipped through the hatch. Both papers lay in front of me. It's now my duty inspect them.

The first thing I do is ask him about the list.

"Sir, why aren't you on today's list?" My voice has a slight shake to it. I press the button and speak with the voice com on.

"I had to leave due to an emergency at work." He gives a slight smile, seeming more human than most. I return the gesture and check his apartment number.

F01-01

Easy. First floor, first room. I grab the folder from the wall and go through the information until I find what I need.

I grab his apartment certificates and compare the ID number of the forms he gave in with the paper I already have. Everything matches up. 483924059684 on both of them. His name is Roman Stilnsky. A very sophisticated name for a man such as himself. Next thing I check is the entry request.

'I'm a resident of the building. I come from my job as an Accountant.'

The D.D.D logo is stamped in the left corner, indicating this was legal and approved by government agents. The ID also has the same logo.

The next thing to check would be the appearance. He seems to match his description. Big nose, Scar on right chin, Long face, One eyebrow, wears a hat. Wears a hat? He's not wearing a hat. I look over his face for a minute.

"Sir, may I question you about your appearance?" I do act nice about it, since I suppose sometimes you can forget your hat when you're in a rush. My voice has let up on this verbal nervousness, but the feeling is still there, deep in my chest.

"Are you asking about my hat? I left it at home. You can call my wife for confirmation." He tells me. I nod in acknowledgement. At least he isn't making some excuse. I pick up the phone and dial his number ... 1152.

The phone rings twice before being picked up by his wife — his wife who we let in earlier.

"Lois Stilnsky here. Is my husband back?" She knows the security window is calling.

Ignoring her question, I ask, "Ma'am, did your husband happen to leave his hat at home?" I hear her fumbling around on the other side of the call and wait a few moments.

"His hat? Yes, he left it here."

"Okay. He is back. Thank you, ma'am. Have a good rest of your day." I respond.

"You too, sweetie." I can hear her smile through the phone as she hangs up. Everything seems legit.

I turn my head around to ask Casey for feedback.
"Should I let him in?"