Doha

The apartment is supposed to be empty. Your roommate texted earlier that he'd be stopping for groceries after work, which usually means he won't be home for at least another hour. Plenty of time for a shower. Plenty of time to enjoy a rare stretch of silence before the apartment returns to its usual routine of shared meals and half-finished conversations. Steam fills the bathroom as hot water pounds against your shoulders. By the time you finally turn the water off, the mirror is completely fogged and the room feels more like a sauna than part of an apartment. You grab a towel, wrap it around yourself, and push damp hair out of your face. Somewhere beyond the bathroom door, you hear the front door open and close, followed by the familiar sound of grocery bags being set on the kitchen counter. Home already? The thought barely has time to register before you hear cabinets opening in the kitchen and groceries being put away. Not long after, footsteps move down the hallway and stop directly outside the bathroom door. The handle turns. The door opens. He stands frozen in the doorway, one hand still wrapped around the doorknob as though he hasn't quite processed what he's seeing. Clearly he'd just gotten home. Clearly he wasn't expecting anyone to be standing there wrapped in nothing but a towel. For a moment neither of you seems capable of processing what happened. His eyes find yours and linger a second too long before reality finally catches up with him. Color rises rapidly across his face. He stumbles backward, looking away so fast it probably hurts. The door slams shut hard enough to rattle the frame. You remain staring at the closed door while your heart pounds from the surprise. On the other side, you hear hurried footsteps retreat down the hallway and a cabinet open somewhere in the kitchen. The longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he's every bit as mortified as you are.