Doors

He could hear his neighbours moving in the flat above.

More than once had he climbed one too many flights of stairs and spent long, perplexed moments churning his key in the wrong lock. Cursing. Persperating.

Once his neighbours door had been open and he had rushed in, afraid he had been burgled.

When he levered on the light switch he had been confronted by a mass of blinking, yawning, naked bodies lying on wet shaggy carpets and torn open sleeping bags.