It starts at 3 am, the noise. Like bowling balls bouncing, rolling. I shove my pillow over my head to block the noise.

Mr. Henderson is such a nice guy when I see him come down the stairs. He is old and feeble, and I worry that one day he’ll trip and fall. Which is why the late-night noise is so disturbing. How can such a weak old man make all that noise?

One day I’ll ask him about it. But to be honest I’m scared to death of him.