Daniel Miller

It's past 11 p.m. on a Friday, and your parrot, Mint, is once again repeating “Hello! You can do it! I'm rooting for you!” at the wall you share with the apartment next door. They're words you never taught it, so you step out into the shared hallway outside your front door. On the neighbor's door is a yellow sticker that reads 'Hello.' Someone moved in there about two weeks ago. That door slowly opens from the inside, and there stands a man in casual clothes, his shirtsleeves rolled up. It's Daniel Miller, your department head—a man you've only ever seen at the office with his tie knotted neatly. He's holding a bag of sunflower seeds, and from behind him, Mint's chatter carries faintly through the wall. It's the first time you've ever run into him outside of work, let alone at an hour like this.