Shoehorn in a Dance Number, and We’ll Have Ourselves a Picture

Either the neighbours above him went hoarse from screaming and both lost their voices, or one killed the other and was now stunned silent or maybe they’d escaped.

Dzinski didn’t care which. They’d kept him awake all night, and he figured he could still catch a couple of hours, if he went to sleep right now.

Someone knocked at his door. He burrowed under a thin pilllow. The knocker insisted. Dzinski got up, tied his ratty bathrobe and opened the door to see the building manager looking for his rent.

The neighbours walked downstairs, huddled up close together, and smiling..

 

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