They were listening. Their ears pressed up against the wall. She held her breath, the clock ticked. Her boyfriend huffed and rolled his eyes. She glared at him and held a finger to her mouth. He was about to speak when it started again.
The yelling, this time it was followed by a crash. Then the low voices. It was odd, it wasn't the usual commotion they heard from the neighbors. The man's voice was urgent, the woman's angry.
Straining, she shifted her weight so she could better press her ear against the wall and when that didn't work she crossed the room, picked up the water glass, dumped it's contents into the plant and pressed it against the wall before repositioning her ear.
She'd heard about this strategy but had never actually tried it.
It worked.
And as she heard every sordid detail, her stomach turned to ice.
Her breath froze.