The snore source

I woke in the middle of the night to loud, loud snoring. I am alone in my flat. Perhaps I had dreamed it, I thought as I made a trip to the loo. Even with the door closed the rattle penetrated the wood.

If someone had broken in they wouldn’t take a nap, and in a studio there is no place to hide.

I walked to the window. The house across the street is almost in handshake distance. Four hundred years ago when the houses were built this was normal.

This particular house is owned by Danes and is usually rented to Danes. As I get to know them we often make plans by chatting window to window. When Alexander stays I am part of his morning routine. Although he is a budding teenage, a birth accident has left him much younger. He will be here next week and I look forward to our greetings.

This week the house is occupied by yet another Danish couple, and like the others, they are drop dead beautiful. I suspect the owner makes beauty a rental requirement.

But the window was the source of the noise. I closed the window, went back to bed with a pillow over my heard, grateful, that as handsome as the man was, he belonged to the woman and not to me.