Peter was a middle-aged man, appearing to be in his mid-40s, with a lean build and an easy demeanor. His hair, a mix of chestnut and gray, was tousled in a carefree manner, suggesting he hadn't spent much time fussing over it.

Peter wore loose-fitting khaki cargo shorts that reached just below his knees, the fabric slightly faded from numerous washes and outdoor adventures. On his feet were worn-out leather sandals, their soles molded to his feet after years of wear. His choice of the top was a soft, lightweight linen button-up shirt in a soothing shade of sky blue, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing weathered but nimble hands. Around his wrist, a simple leather bracelet with a single sparkling bead added a touch of personal style.

Despite the casual attire, his warm hazel eyes and relaxed posture exuded an approachable confidence, as if he was comfortable in his own skin and at ease with the world around him.

"Hi, I'm so sorry to bother you," Peter began, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I've lost my keys again. Could you please let me into my apartment?"

The super, Mr. Michaelson looked at him with a mock-serious expression. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, come on! It's me! Apartment 3B. I've locked myself out a few times before."

"Apartment 3B, that's Miss Peacock's apartment. I didn't know she had a ..." Mr. Michaelson couldn't picture what a man like this would be doing with a woman like her. He was much too old to be her boyfriend and too young to be her father...in his opinion.

Mr. Michaelson knew Miss Peacock, Charlotte very well. Charlotte was a striking 22-year-old woman, with an air of youthful grace and natural beauty. Her features were delicately balanced: high cheekbones framed a softly rounded face, complemented by almond-shaped eyes that were a deep, luminous brown, like polished chestnuts. Thick, dark lashes framed those eyes, accentuating their expressive nature.

He could picture her svelte body as well as her gorgeous face and auburn hair. He frowned for a second that sure a pretty girl would be associated with this man.

"May I ask how do you know Miss Peacock?"

Peter twisted his wrist, the one with the sparkling bead. It glittered for a moment.

"Don't you recognize me? I'm Charlotte," Peter smiled as he spoke.

Mr. Michaelson paused for a moment before finally breaking into a laugh. "I'm just messing with you. Of course, I know who you are. Let me grab the spare keys."

Rolling his eyes but smiling, Peter followed Mr. Michaelson to Charlotte's apartment. With a quick turn of the key, the door was open.

"Thanks a lot," Peter said, his tone a mix of gratitude and amusement.