The woman begins to pick up her boxes one by one, but they keep slipping from her hands. Amato glances at his watch and mumbles under his breath. His foot taps rapidly on the floor, displaying his impatience. She drops the boxes again, and Amato, at his wit's end, kicks the box keeping the elevator open. The box flies and hits the woman in the forehead, catching her attention. The doors begin to close again, and Amato smiles triumphantly. But suddenly, a hand stops the doors from closing, and his smile vanishes.

“Great,” Amato mumbles, sighing in exasperation.

The woman looks him up and down, recognizing him as the man who almost ran her over. She ignores him and swiftly moves to the floor buttons, pressing five. Amato scoffs, as if smelling something rotten. The woman almost loses her temper but keeps it to herself. She drops the heavy boxes onto the elevator floor with a loud thud, causing the elevator to shake slightly, further annoying Amato.

“Could you be more careful, please? I’d hate to be stuck in the elevator with you,” Amato says, trying to sound polite.

“What’s wrong with being stuck in the elevator with me?” the woman asks, flabbergasted. “You have no manners!”

“Excuse me?” Amato responds, confused.

Amato hadn’t intended to be rude. He was merely trying to avoid an awkward situation. After almost hitting her with his car and not helping her with the boxes, he felt justified in not engaging further. He didn’t want the situation to escalate, but she wouldn’t stop without an answer.

“So, what’s wrong with me being in the elevator?” the woman persists, answering her own question before he can respond. “Are you a narcissist by any chance?”

Amato remains silent as the woman continues to insult him. He glances at his watch, feeling this is the slowest elevator ride he’s ever taken. She keeps bickering about manners and his supposed narcissism.

*Ding.*

The sound is music to his ears. A wave of relief washes over Amato as they reach their floor. He waits for her to exit first.

“Ladies first,” Amato says in a sing-song tone.

To her, it sounds mocking. She steps off the elevator, and Amato follows behind her. He reads one of her boxes: "Dierdre." He assumes she’s moving in from far away. Her outfit—pink slippers, a tank top, and an oversized lace-brim sun hat—makes her look like a tourist.

As Amato walks behind her, Dierdre feels he’s stalking her. She worries he might be a real narcissist intent on harm. Dropping her belongings, she reaches into her pocket. Amato, uninterested, tries to pass her into his apartment. She pulls out a small pepper spray and points it between his eyes.

“Why are you following me, you weirdo?” Dierdre demands. “Back up or I’ll spray you!”

“I live here,” Amato responds, unbothered. He swipes his keycard, and his door opens.

“Oh—well, I live here too!” Dierdre says with a smile.

“Great,” Amato sighs, feeling a headache coming on.

“Will you stop being sarcastic?” Dierdre asks.

Before Amato can go in, someone opens the door to Dierdre’s apartment. He vaguely remembers his next-door neighbor mentioning his little sister’s visit. He hadn’t paid much attention, as he often ignored his friendly neighbor, Marcus.

“Hey Amato! I see you’ve already met my sister,” Marcus says with a broad smile.

“Mhm,” Amato grunts, shutting his door behind him.

Finally free from people, Amato can now work. Home is his escape from an imperfect world filled with nuisances. His job, money, and reputation are his only loves. He’s trying to figure out why love kills people. It couldn’t be a natural phenomenon; it had to be man-made. What does anyone gain from killing lovers? Jealousy? Or is it Mother Nature’s doing?

Amato reviews the facts: lovers die through heart attacks when making physical contact. If it’s one-sided love, the one in love dies regardless. Every lead he’s chased and every piece of evidence has led nowhere, leaving him back at square one for years. He’s consulted other detectives, but they also hit dead ends. Without “MyDiary,” a book that tells the future, Amato would be lost and too afraid to face the world. Amato spends hours immersed in his work not letting and small distraction deter him.

Suddenly, he hears screams from next door. Dropping his notes, he rushes to Marcus’ door, banging on it in panic. Dierdre opens the door, her face pale.

“What happened?!” Dierdre shouts.

“I heard screaming,” Amato says, trying to see over her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, that was my brother playing a horror game,” Dierdre explains, relieved. “He screams like a little girl sometimes.”

“Where is he?”

“What?”

“Where is Marcus?” Amato repeats, suspicious. “I want to make sure everyone’s alright.” Marcus doesn’t like horror games. Amato remembers Marcus offering him expensive tickets to a horror movie, which he declined.

“Ah—so it must’ve not been him. Maybe it was the upstairs neighbor?” Dierdre lies.

“Marcus doesn’t come home at this time. Why are you lying to me?” Amato interrogates Dierdre as if she’s a suspect.

Dierdre stammers, trying to come up with an excuse. “I—I didn’t do anything. Just don’t tell Marcus when he comes back.”

Her suspicious behavior gives Amato enough reason to search the house. He pushes Dierdre aside and looks around for any signs of foul play. The kitchen is normal, aside from an absurd amount of dog food on the floor. Marcus doesn’t own any pets. From the living room, he hears whining and scratching. He opens a nearby door, and a pack of dogs rush out, some indulging in the mess of dog food, others escaping through the open door.

“No! What do you think you’re doing?!” Dierdre yells, trying to gather the dogs back inside.

Amato seizes the chance to check another room. He sees Dierdre’s streaming setup, confirming she was the one playing the horror game. She’s a famous streamer known for her research on the Love Killing epidemic, claiming it’s a government hoax.

“What’s going on?” Marcus asks, confused as he enters. “Amato, what are you doing here?”