10:50 p.m.

More Musings From Your Downstairs Neighbor:

At 3 a.m. it sounded as if she had dropped a billiard ball, watched it roll down an indiscernible slope in the wood floor, picked it up when it thumped against the wall and repeated this act over and over again. Sarah, who slept in Apartment 2, was not losing her mind. The horrible sound was real. Alas, she had been awoken from a slight-fever-stuffy-nose-induced slumber by her elusive neighbor in Apartment Number 4, the one who, by Sarah's count, had not set foot in No. 4 since November. Sarah listened to two faintly-muffled voices through the vent, although she couldn't decipher the conversation.

"Please, please let this be a dream," whispered Sarah. She had been lucky enough to enjoy months without an upstairs neighbor, especially this one, who was notorious for schlomping in heels across hardwood floors at all hours of the night.

And that's when said schlomping began. It lasted an hour. Or, at least, Sarah dozed off after an hour of poorly attempting to mask No. 4's back-and-forth schlomping across the entire apartment with lots of duvet ruffling and nose sniffling. Sarah lacked the gumption to go upstairs and give No. 4 a piece of her mind.

"I'm too tired and groggy," Sarah thought, falling in and out of sleep. "I'll tell her tomorrow if she's still here. Why is it always 3 in the morning. Why?"

Sarah hoped, from the snot that dribbled down the tip of her nose to her icy cold feet, that tomorrow, No. 4 would be gone.