“Do you know what city you’re in? These people are bandits. Do you know what they do to people like you? You’re putting us in danger.”

“I can deal with that myself. I want to know what’s going on with us”

Maria said nothing. Through the silence, the neighbour’s music sounded louder than it was. Andrei angrily stamped on the floor. He was annoyed by her habit of ignoring questions. Everything was riling him this morning. Same with Maria. Especially this habit he had of badgering her.

“You know full well what’s happening to us.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?” Andrei pursed his lips.

“I’m not saying anything. It’s not anybody’s fault. I’m tired. I just need a rest.”

She turned away, opened the wardrobe and riffled through her dresses.

Andrei expected her to continue talking, but she said nothing. Using the mirror on the wardrobe door, she raised the dresses to her chest one by one, tilting her head slightly to one side.

A new song started up downstairs. Low frequencies thumped dully from below. Andrei stamped again. Maria shuddered and cast a quick glance at him over her shoulder. The loud music persisted. Andrei jumped up, grabbed a large-calibre machine gun cartridge that had been lying on the table, walked over to the radiator and pounded the metal. The sound was deafening.

Maria covered her ears. “What the hell? Let him have his music. It’s still daytime.”

“I won’t. I can’t stand this din.”

The music would not stop.

Maria settled on a navy-blue dress with short sleeves, took off her shirt, pulled off her jeans, put the dress over her head, and straightened her shoulders. Andrei gazed greedily at her slender figure as he clutched the heavy cartridge case. They hadn’t had sex for over a week. The music continued to play. Maria looked in the mirror.

“It’d be better if you changed that lightbulb instead of banging on the radiator. We only just repainted it.”

That lightbulb was the final straw. He blustered and stormed out of the room. Maria heard the front door opening. Heavy steps going down. Knock. The music became no quieter. The door downstairs opened. Andrei groused. Then a crash, shouting, and stomping. A few seconds later, Andrei tore into the room, flushed and out of breath, strode up to a cupboard, pushing Maria to one side, reached into a duffel bag on the top shelf, fished out a pistol, loaded the clip, and switched off the safety. Maria stared at him agog. He went back out without a word. Steps. Knock. Door opens. No voices this time. The music stops. Heavy footsteps going up. The door.

And then he changed the light bulb and unblocked the drain.

Andrei came back in and put the pistol back in the bag. Chunks of dried mud dropped onto the light grey carpet. Maria looked at him in shock.

“What . . .? What are you doing?”

“That’ll teach him how to talk to people properly.”