The peephole on the outside of my apartment door has a weird crack in the middle. It was like that when we moved in and it looks like someone hit it with a screw driver. Needless to say, it severely obscures the view of whatever is outside the door.
The actual view that's obscured is the neighbor's door directly opposite mine and their lovely "Happy Valentine's Day" heart.
The story goes: A couple of nights ago at about two in the morning, I was turning off the lights getting ready for bed. I had just finished watching David Lynch's Wild at Heart for the first time so I was in a bit of a surreal Lynch-induced haze. I thought I heard a noise outside so I looked out the peephole. The magical combination of Lynch brain, the peephole crack, the sickly flickering fluorescent glow in the hallway and the not-usually-there Valentine's Day heart--created an instant irrational image of an old woman in a babushka staring at me.
Fear does many things so quickly-- paralyzation, electric chills up my neck, burning nerves down my arms, clammy hands, pounding heart and a few stomach flips. Then luckily in this case, the aftermath of basking in the relief that there isn't an evil gypsy woman outside my door. Although it did take a very long time to fall asleep that night.