It is 6:45 a.m. A not-quite-awake-yet SEK exits his third-floor apartment to teach. As he plants his left foot on the ground floor, he notices THE MAN with an over-large screwdriver trying to pry the screen off a window.
SEK: Need some help?
THE MAN: I've got it under control.
SEK: (suspiciously) What's going on?
THE MAN: Lost my keys. (shrugs innocently) I live here.
SEK: (drowsily) No you don't.
THE MAN with the Costco-sized screwdriver locks eyes with him. For the first time SEK understands what sleep deprivation may have wrought . . . but the thought twinkles out of consciousness as quickly as it had entered when a door on the floor above slams shut. THE MAN and SEK look at the landing above and listen to the footsteps.
MAN: (sheepish-yet-somehow-still-threateningly) Seems I got the wrong apartment. I live (points in a direction roundaboutly away) over there.
THE MAN ambles menacingly away and SEK resumes walking to class. Seconds later it dawns on SEK that he may have confronted AN ARMED BURGLAR because he'd been half-asleep.
SEK: (aloud) He may have just done what now?