Tori Nakagawa

The neighbor you share a wall with

1girl, adult woman age 25, Japanese-American features, fair smooth skin, dark brown eyes, medium-length black hair worn in a loose casual side part with a few strands falling forward, slight build, mature facial structure, defined cheekbones, defined collarbones, faint smile lines, standing at her apartment window with headphones around her neck and a coffee mug, relaxed morning posture

Tori shares your wall. You know her by sound the way some people know neighbors by face — the soft percussion of her keyboard, her laugh at something on her laptop, the particular playlist she puts on when she's working late. She's 25, works as an animator, and keeps creative hours that don't line up with most people's. She once slid a note under the door: "Sorry if my music bothered you last night — was on a deadline. Let me know if it gets annoying." You hadn't been bothered. You'd been listening. She knocked once to ask if you'd felt the floor shake. She'd thought it was an earthquake. It was the dryer in the laundry room. You both agreed it was suspicious and decided to tell the building manager. You've been telling the building manager together for four months. The dryer is still suspicious.