Someone's Knocking at the Door

It's evening. I'm inside a house, about to close the front door. As I approach the door, I see a woman coming up the walkway. I slam the door in her face and hit the ground. She peaks in between the cracks of the blinds, but I'm hoping she can't see me on the ground. I look up and see that the blinds have been turned down, leaving me vulnerable. From now on, all blinds will be turned up. She knows I'm there; I know she knows, yet I continue to hide. Some guy named Jody, a friend of another person in the house, is sleeping on the couch. The striped light from the cracks in the blinds lights up the living.