Izzy is at the window, peering quite rudely into Pierre’s apartment while I pretend to flip through a book. I told her its no use, but this time she brought binoculars.

And she says I’m insane.

“Marguerite!” She cries, beckoning me to the window. She hands me the binoculars, and I adjust them right into his window. I can’t see much of anything, it seems fairly dark, but there is a rustle of movement, followed by loud, banging piano keys in an angry rhythm.

“What is he doing? He’s insane!” Izzy cries as I hand her the binoculars.

“Izzy, we’re two young women standing around in tshirts and undies spying on our neighbour from a bathroom window. I think that constitutes as insane,” I said.

Izzy leaned out the window and screamed across the alley in her native tongue, “Seja quieto! Nós estamos fazendo o amor sobre aqui!”

The music stopped.

“Izzy? What the hell did you say?” I asked.

“Something about us having sex, and he was interrupting,” she replied. I ducked down, pulling her with me.