I heard the voices at 4:27, according to my alarm’s digital display. Loud voices, carrying from the neighboring apartments. I lie still, listening, then heard the words “call the police” clearly. I got up and stepped over a slumbering dog to our upstairs window, and peered out through the levelors at the apartments.
It’s a one-story stucco complex of eight or nine units; we can see the roofs but I couldn’t see down to the driveway or the people involved. More hollering, car doors slamming. A lover’s quarrel, the end of something. Then a car drove away, through the U-shaped driveway, with one long loud angry 4:28 a.m. honking horn, sustained past all the neighbor’s front doors.
Nice, real nice.
The engine roared and the car took off down the street, and I got back in bed at 4:29 a.m., grateful for Roberta, and thinking, it isn’t always better, being younger and unsettled, and I went back to sleep.