The most secret of all conversations are held in private. Sometimes it was the competitive fight for a job at work or the simple frustration with the local grocer for taking his sweet time bagging their groceries. Sometimes it was a couple arguing over who was going to drive the kids to school. These conversations always seemed silly to the boy, until a pair of new tenants moved in, two storeys below.

“Look, look! Celia, come here! I found an old piece of paper; it’s a blueprint of some sort!” a male voice rang out through the pipe. The curious boy cupped his hand around his ear and listened intently.

Footsteps.

“This was what was making that old wooden floor creak, right in front of the sofa? It looks really old, like it might have been a—”
and the tenants who lived next door flushed the toilet.

The boy had spent enough time listening to the pipe to know exactly how long it would be until water stopped rushing through the pipe and he could listen again. It was too late.