She popped up on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole. She saw a tall, blond man with a bag of Cheetos, a package of Oreo's and some soda. Well, that didn't seem too suspicious just yet.
"Promise you're not an axe murderer?"
She really should probably stop watching horror movies. They made her paranoid everyone was going to hurt her for the next few days, until she promptly forgot what she had watched and went back to thinking everyone was peachy. Of course, every time this happened, she said the same thing, and then promptly forgot ever saying it in the first place. It was a vicious cycle.
Of course, if he said he wasn't an axe murderer, then she'd be in a scramble. She'd have to put her hair on, fix her face and try to do it quickly so she wouldn't be rude, but do it correctly so she didn't look hideous. First impressions were ever so important, her grandmother had told her that time and time again. She had to look nice, even if she was wearing shark slippers and a pink sweat suit.
Honestly, she kind of hoped he was an axe murderer now that she thought about it. It would spare her the trouble of getting ready.