The real problem was that every day was feeling the same. At the start this was the best thing. There was a degree of certainty. They would wake up in the same place they’d gone to sleep. They would wake up together, by themselves, without anyone else. They would wake up and know what was in the fridge – approximately – and what they had to do for the day. They would wake up not worrying about where the next drink would come from. It was a unique experience to start with. It felt good. But now it was getting a little old. Some of their friends were starting all sorts of drama to try and break it up. Their friends would deny it, but from the outside it looked like they were deliberately making things weird so their day would be slightly different. At the meetings most days, someone new was crying. Something big had happened. Usually of the person’s own making. They had maybe shouted at someone at work and that was not okay. Maybe they yelled at their flatmates and again, this was not okay. Most things happened as a result of shouting. Shouting was a way to ensure something would change, even if it was for the worse.

Greta and Peggy decided they were more about watching. The morning after the pillow conversation they woke up and the house seemed quiet. They went out to the kitchen. Greta had a shower while Peggy went to the toilet and brushed her teeth. Then Peggy had a shower and Greta did her hair. It all seemed very quiet.

‘It’s quiet,’ Greta said finally.

Peggy had her head under the shower so she didn’t hear at first and then, a minute later said, ‘It’s quiet, eh?’

‘Yeah,’ Greta said.

Peggy turned the shower off while she stood under it. She stood for a moment, naked, letting the water drip off her and the cold air in the bathroom wipe up her body on the tail draught of warm air rising to the roof.

Heidi was sitting at the table, eating Weet-Bix and looking at the Weet-Bix box. Reading it like it held the answers to everything.

When Greta sat down Heidi turned the box around and pointed to a piece of text. ‘Has it always said that?’ she asked.

‘Huh?’

‘This.’ She pointed again and this time shook the box a little, moved it further away from Greta. ‘Has it always said this. About where the wheat comes from.’

Greta looked at her and Heidi banged the box again and Greta looked at the box. ‘I think so.’

‘Huh,’ Heidi said and sat back. She was looking at Greta now. ‘Of course you would.’

‘I haven’t really paid much attention,’ Greta said. ‘To the box.’ Heidi didn’t shift her glare. ‘I don’t really like Weet-Bix.’

‘Maybe you should,’ Heidi said.

‘What?’

‘Pay more attention.’

‘I don’t really like Weet-Bix.’

‘Convenient,’ said Heidi.