So I’m sitting here at the computer just now, with my apartment door open, like I do when it’s a beautiful evening such as this, and a guy comes to the door.

“Hey,” he says.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Is this Twenty-One Fourteen?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “What’s going on?” I’ve never seen this person before, but he looks harmless enough. He walks into my living room and slowly shuts the door behind him.

He asks, “Aren’t you Seattle Guy?”

“No.” I look at him, trying to figure out what in the world he’s referring to. “I’m confused.”

“Oh,” he says, turning toward the door, opening it, and walking back out to the street, where his car is parked.