Sleeping beside another body was truly a beautiful thing. To drift off to the sound of their breathing. To sleep in the scent of their skin. To wake with the ability to push one’s nose into bed-warmed, pillow-tousled hair. Dark blanketed the room, the barest glow of street-lighting still stole through the window, and it took Owen a couple of seconds to recall why he’d opened his eyelids.
God…Baba’s right. You can hear f*****g everything. Owen widened his eyes and focused. What the hell was that? Dancing? No, stomping? From where? Above? In his apartment? Owen crooked his head, listened more carefully…no, from the stairs. Someone was stomping up the stairs.
It wasn’t the athletic romp of Dennis taking two at a time, shoulders back and head high. It wasn’t his mother’s steady, exact, hell’
