Sounds like somebody's home...

The door shuts closed at the same moment that you think you hear a noise coming from Roxanne's room. You stare back toward the hallway leading to the left of the living room. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you.

As you settle in, tossing your briefcase and Blackberry on your bed, you hear a light thump from across the apartment. Deciding not to pay attention to it, you proceed to change from your work clothes when another dull thud rings out.

"Roxy?" You call out. Did the noise stop because you said something? She couldn't be in any trouble. You would definitely hear that. And there's no highlighter yellow post-it on her door (the tell-tale sign that someone is having the night of their life). Puzzled, you begin to head back into your room.

Just then, Roxanne's unmistakable groan belts out. That dulcet note has been heard plenty in the apartment at all different hours of the day. She could easily be treating someone to a world class fuck. Or she could be doing yoga in her room again. It's not that big a stretch, seeing as how she is terrible at yoga and almost always refuses to practice it anywhere but in privacy where she won't be embarrassed.

You're wary to burst in on her in any circumstance, but if she's hurt or needs help you could never live down simply ignoring her. Against your better judgment you head down the hall and slowly open the door.