This woman’s words are like water, like a waterfall. They cascade over Alisha and pool at her feel. She doesn’t know what to say.
Wait, yes she does: “What made last night different?”
Margo nods slowly, like on the news when the reporter live in the field is waiting to hear the transmission from the anchor desk. “I didn’t hear no hollering last night. Quiet night. Went to bed. Woke up to Jerry yapping. Then the crashing sound upstairs. Crashing, cracking. Boom, smash. Heavy, heavy sound. Boom, smash. Something’s wrong. More wrong than usual. I got the sense it was safe to call the coppers. No more harm could come to Her Upstairs.”
Alisha’s field of vision darkens. She fights the sensation, but it comes on strong. The punch, the crash, the kick, the smash. It’s too much
