I walk into an apartment, my apartment. I am 30-something, with a man, a companion. As we pass through the entryway, a small red flash of color catches my eye. I realize it is a tiny spy camera placed high up on the wall.
I pull my companion into the apartment, into my arms in a hug, and whisper in his ear that there is a spy camera in the entryway, and therefore likely in the rest of the apartment too. It doesn’t occur to me to wonder why, but I need him to know, so he doesn’t say anything that would give us away.