Today I ran into the Piano Playing Downstairs Neighbor, who is emoting even as we speak. We were on the stairs. I froze.

She said, “Hello.” I could not speak. Then she went downstairs. I fled upstairs.

It had to be The Piano Playing Downstairs Neighbor, considering that she was not:

a. the hairy-ass guy
b. his mean girlfriend
c. the two Asian guys
d. Rob

And that is all the apartments that are downstairs. Only one is left. The Piano Playing Apartment below ours.

She seemed- strangely- normal. I mean, this is a woman who plays elementary Bach for at least 3 hours per day. And sometimes longer than that. Not to mention the finger exercises, and that one time when she played Beethoven’s Sonata Pathetique.

She is obviously not normal.

Freaks. They walk among us.