Fuck. If I sank any lower, I\’d be breakfasting in the apartment directly below.
It is a temporary flat, set aside for women seeking a quiet life – alone – and over the years that I\’ve lived here it has housed many changing faces. Estranged partners and husbands come and go with impunity and by invitation only. Late at night, I have often heard the sounds of splintering furniture merge with fracturing bones and the softer crunch of cartilage.
I no longer call the police like some overwrought character actor in a B-Movie with the receiver cradled against my cheek.
Zero Tolerance is a fictitious comfort zone for yuppies and social workers.