I turned off the light, stopped its interrogating of my head. A set of aluminium step-ladders lean against a shelf of magazines: fashion, photography, interiors, garden schemes... I don't need a light to read the titles when a golden orb surrounded by six marbled satellites floats its flight across the room. I follow from the corner of my eye although I am beyond fully following.
A sudden explosion, eruption, disturbance in the night: voices raised.
Lean up onto my elbow.
Realise that it's coming from the darkness of the living room