You walk up to your porch, up to the crimson door, and dig in your pocket for your keys. You frown and check the other pocket. You turn around and look at the sidewalk to see if they are they. You frown again and walk down the slope to see if you dropped them. You see nothing. Then, you hear someone calling your name. "(Y\N)! I think these are yours!", the voice said, holding up black keys. You look to see who it is. Its John! He walks up to you, huffing and puffing from running. "I-I got your k-keys." He held up a black and white key chain. You say, awkwardly, "Um, t-thanks!" You take your keys from him and think for a second. Then you say, "Um, . . . do you w-want to come in? You look pretty . . . . " Your voice goes off track and you stand there looking stupid. His eyes fling open and he says, "Wait, did you say I'm pretty?!" You wave your hands around, blushing, and say, "What?! N-no....! I d-didn't say t-that!" John says, "Well, that is what I heard . . . . " You say, "I was going to say, 'You look pretty tried', so ya. Anyways, let's get inside." You whip around and walk to your crimson door. John follows behind. You unlock the door and step aside and with a swipe of your hand, John steps inside. He looks around and says, "Nice place you got here." He walks over to your couch and flops down it. You half say, half yell, "Hey! No flopping on my furniture!" "Hey, I'm just trying to get comfortable", He says as he puts his feet on your coffee table. "It's kind of hard to get comfortable in this joint." You say, "Well, you can go get comfortable in YOUR joint." John sighs and puts his feet back on the floor. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just . . . . kind of freaked out by what happened to you over at the pizzeria . . ." You stare at him for a brief second and then turn away. You say, "Ya . . . it was crazy . . . do you know who the 'The Purple Guy' is?" He says, "Uh . . . I would NEVER want to know him, but, no, I don't know him." You walk over to him and sit next to him. "Hey, what time is it?" He looks down at his watch. "Oh, sweet honey ice tea! It's 9:56!" He jumps up and wraps his arms around you. "Bye, (Y\N). See you tomorrow!" You hug him back. "Ya, see you . . . " He lets you go, walks toward the door, opens the door, and he's gone . . .