The Watchers in Apartment 7B

I never meant to spy on my neighbors. It started innocently enough—a glimpse through their window from my fire escape while watering my plants. But then I saw something I shouldn't have, and now they know I'm watching.

The couple in 7B moved in three months ago. Young professionals, I assumed. They kept to themselves, which suited me fine. In this city, anonymity is a luxury we all silently agree to maintain.

It was a Tuesday evening when I first noticed something odd. I was out on my fire escape, a nightly ritual to escape my cramped apartment and breathe somewhat fresher air. Their curtains were partially open, and I could see them sitting at their dining table, perfectly still, facing each other. Not eating, not talking. Just sitting. For over an hour.

The next night, same thing. And the next. Always at 8:17 PM precisely, they would sit down and stare at each other in complete silence until exactly 9:43 PM, when they would stand in unison and go about their evening as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Curiosity got the better of me. I started taking notes, tracking their patterns. They never had visitors. They always entered and left the building together. They received no mail. No deliveries. It was as if they existed only within the confines of apartment 7B.