True story: I keep odd hours at work. Last night, I decided to go back in around 9PM for a couple hours. The stairs leading to my front door are narrow and steep, and in the dark it can be quite annoying to fumble with my keys. Thinking ahead to my return later that night, I left the light on above my front door. It's actually a very bright light, as comforting as it is useful.
I returned around 1130PM. I was cleaning up the apartment a bit and about to go hunting for my toothbrush (I just returned from camping, so the essentials are still scattered) when there was a knock at my door. I looked at the clock: 1205AM. The light above my front door was still on; I had weighed the financial and environmental costs of leaving it on even though I was already home (seriously, I did), and decided that for that evening, I was going to enjoy saying to the night-world "I live here!"
Through the glass of my front door I could see a figure leaning in from the narrow stairway, not quite committed to actually standing in front of my door. I was quizzical, but nothing else. I opened the door. There stood a woman in her late twenties, looking frantic and trembling, clutching a candleholder.