Next you go to see the new guy in town. He’s taken a flat in the block nearby to yours, but it is smaller and dirtier. You almost trip over a box as you enter. The light may be on, but it may not be; all you can tell is that your sight is limited and the living room you are looking into keeps flicking before your eyes. You spot the source of the problem: an old light-bulb hanging in a dusty lampshade in the centre of the room. You move towards it, but are stopped suddenly.
“Hey,” says a gruff voice from the man who comes out of the shadows, “My name is Static, and if you don’t like me that’s your own fault!”
He sounds so tough, and it scares you a little, that you dare not cross that rule. Static is still mostly in the darkness but you can see his face and the scars placed upon it. His nose looks like it has been broken several times, in different places and his right ear seems as though it’s gone through a great pounding. Perhaps this tough man once boxed. He has long, bushy hair framing the face and a thick beard…
You give your greetings, the usual ‘I hope you enjoy your stay in our quiet little town’ (to which he gruffly nods, arms crossed), but all the time, it takes an effort not to run out of his house. Finally, once he seems to be getting bored of your pleasantries, you feel you can exit and, tired, you start to head home.
On route, you pass the house of a middle-aged friend of yours, Melba. She laughs when she sees you and waves, as though she is beckoning.
Should you go in…?