The one-bedroom flat sat one floor up from one of the busiest roads in inner-Melbourne. When a truck went past you had to repeat what it was that you just said. In actuality, the flat had three rooms and a cupboard with the hot-water tank in it. At the front there was the living area and kitchenette. The living area had room for a large papasan chair, a similar couch, a table and an second-hand colour telly. The kitchenette had room to turn around in, but only if you were especially slim. The bedroom came off the living room and was just big enough to hold a double bed and allow you through to the small bathroom. It was only a small space but that was all they needed; they never wanted to be far apart.
She was sitting watching telly when he walked through the bedroom to the toilet. The bed was something of a mess as he walked through the darkened bedroom. It occurred to him that the doona was so dishevelled that someone could easily be in the bed and you’d never know. When he walked back out of the bathroom this idea took a more definite shape.
After a short while, she wondered where he had gone. Perhaps he had gone to bed or was stuck in the bathroom on account of an upset stomach. Either way, a quick look would sort things out.
He lay still under the massively crumpled doona and waited. Finally, he heard her open the door. He waited a split-second until she actually set foot in the room before he flung the doona off himself and towards her. In the same motion he flung in arms in all directions and roared.
As you might expect, she fled instantly. She flew through the open door and slammed it behind her. In the same instant, like something in a classic cartoon, she returned through the door with her arms outstretched, looking to choke the life out of him. Which is fair enough really.