Kirsty was having her early morning bath. Jamie was still in bed, just waking up, dreams receding from his mind in which go-karts collided. He got out of bed, going over to the mirror to look at himself, out of damage-assessment habit rather than vanity. His body was in pretty good shape, caused by a combination of loads of athletic sex and all the working out he had been doing, putting his weights to good use. His face, though, was a different matter. He had bags like coal sacks beneath his eyes; he looked pasty and tired, his skin like the underbelly of a fish. He looked the way he did at the end of a long winter. It didn’t seem real that just a few weeks ago summer had blazed.

He wandered out of the bedroom, naked and needing to pee. Passing the front door, he looked down and saw that an envelope that had been pushed under it. He crouched down and picked it up, taking it with him into the bathroom.

Kirsty was washing her hair, leaning back in the water, her eyes closed against the shampoo, her ears submerged in water so she didn’t hear him come in. He leant over and kissed her wet face, causing her to open her eyes.

‘Oh shit, Jamie, now I’ve got shampoo in my eyes. Pass me a towel, quick.’

‘Sorry.’

She dried her face. ‘What’s that?’

He ripped the envelope open and began to read. He read the letter twice, turning it over in his hand as if he couldn’t believe it was real. Then he read it aloud.

To the Ground Floor Flat

We have become increasingly disturbed recently by the level of noise coming from your flat. The music you play at high volumes is bad enough, but recently the sound of you having sexual intercourse has become quite intolerable. We both have to get up early, and are finding it difficult to get sufficient sleep because of the noises that emerge from your flat night after night. It is quite disgusting to listen to.

We do not want to cause too much of a fuss over this. We understand that you have urges to fulfil, but we do not all want to share in your exertions. We hope that you will act to ensure that we do not need to write to you like this again.

Kirsty grabbed the letter and read it, just to make sure that Jamie wasn’t making it up. She held it at the corner so as not to get it wet.

‘It’s unsigned.’ She looked up at Jamie. ‘Do you think it’s meant to be a joke?’

‘No. I mean, I don’t know. I hope it’s meant to be a joke.’

‘Do you think it’s from Lucy and Chris?’