There was a shadowy figure on the other side of the glass door, shifting from side to side. I walked up to it and pulled on the handle, a musky air rushing through as it opened. If this was a horror or thriller, maybe it would have been some horrifying creature or tortured killer on the other end. But this is not that kind of story, so the figure standing at my doorstep was my friend, Matt. His head whipped up from the phone in his hand when the door opened, his other hand resting lazily against his worn jeans. Floppy hair covered his eyes, soaked from the heavy rain, with a few drops falling onto his flushed cheeks.

“Oh hey! That’s funny timing, I was just about to text you that I was here,” Matt said as he moved a hand through his wet hair with a lopsided smile, then clicked off his phone and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.

I chuckled a bit, “It’s a glass door, I could see you from the couch.” I gestured for him to come in. He walked in, bringing with him the stench of a drenched dog, and slipped off his damp sneakers without having to be told to. I looked down and saw that his socks were covered with some fancy-looking cats having a very sophisticated tea party; I couldn’t keep a small snicker from escaping my mouth. Matt followed my gaze, and his face beamed when he realized what I had laughed at.

“Aren’t they adorable,” he practically yelled as he grabbed one of his feet and lifted it up to show me the design, almost toppling over before setting a hand on my shoulder and stabilizing his balance.