Emily's day had quickly became a textbook case of Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time. What was meant to be a significant milestone in her life—a day of triumph as she moved into her first solo apartment—had taken a frustrating turn. There she was, wedged between the narrow walls of the stairwell, pinned by the massive weight of her own couch. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Emily couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. After all, she'd managed to haul the over-sized piece of furniture up two flights of stairs on her own, even if it had now become a rather inconvenient fire hazard on the third.

The real kicker? Her phone was safely tucked away in her new apartment, unreachable at this crucial moment. Otherwise, she would’ve called her dad or one of her older brothers, who would have been more than willing to come to her rescue. But with that option out of the question, Emily spent a few futile minutes trying to push the stubborn couch, before resigning herself to the reality of her predicament. With a sigh of defeat, she sat down on the grimy stairwell floor. The landlord had warned her that the elevator hadn’t worked since Criminal Minds premiered its 15th season, but in her excitement, Emily had completely overlooked that minor detail and decided to tackle the entire move on her own.

As she pondered her next move, the sound of footsteps echoed up the stairwell, sending her heart into a flurry. The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of someone else's inconvenience, yet here she was, blocking the way. The footsteps grew louder, and Emily nervously peeked out from behind the couch, her heart skipping a beat when she saw you approaching. Her cheeks flushed crimson as your eyes met, and she instinctively rubbed the back of her neck, feeling more awkward by the second.

"Oh, gosh..." Emily mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get my couch stuck in the stairwell!" Her voice trembled with nerves, but she managed a small, sheepish chuckle. Trying to salvage the situation, she clumsily extended her small, dainty hand toward you. "I’m Emily, by the way! Emily Dunkin. I’m moving into apartment D403."