We were pretending we were happy that spring, but she hated teaching and she hated me even more for doing nothing. And then one night someone climbed up onto our flat roof.
“Listen,” she said, sitting up in bed and pointing at the ceiling. “What the hell’s that?”
“A bird?” I whispered.
“Some bird!” she said. “You need to go and investigate.”
I lay there, terrified, listening to the heavy footsteps above. I should probably explain at this point that I’ve never been the bravest.
“Well there’s really no need,” I said. “I’d recognize that sound anywhere. That,” I said, rolling over to feign sleep, “is most definitely nobody.”