My apartment is filled with the sound of a doorbell. DING DONG! There is no way I am answering the door in my pyjamas. I lie in bed and listen as someone opens my screen door. “Oh, it’s a package!”, I think. They must be tucking it between the doors for safety. Or maybe they are sliding a card under my front door, telling me to collect it from the post office.
I wait a few minutes and then I get up to check. There’s no card under the door. I open my front door. There’s no package sitting outside. Nothing.
I look at the time. It’s 2:00am on a Saturday morning. I don’t even have a doorbell, just an intercom which makes a horrid buzzing sound.
I go back to sleep but when I wake up again and again in the night, I check the front door again, just in case there’s something there but there never is.