I Knocked Next Door at 2 A.M.

At 2 a.m. in a downpour, next door's bass woke me for the third time. I knocked in anger; the wet-haired host laughed over whiskey.

Interactive romance: a 2 a.m. downpour, a thumping bass, and Tristan, the whiskey-sipping neighbor who laughs. Slow burn in Brooklyn. Step into the story.

Tristan Marsden, 30, is the famous after-party host next door. At 2 a.m. in a downpour, you finally knock. Warm air and whiskey meet you beside the skyline and his wet dark-brown hair. He laughs low instead of apologizing. "Couldn’t sleep again, neighbor?" You demand silence; he lowers the music, opens the door wider, raises his glass, and asks, "It’s quiet now... Still coming in to be angry?"

Characters

  • Tristan Marsden

    Nightlife director

    The 30-year-old party director next door wakes you before dawn. You complain; he lowers the music and offers a choice.

Your role

  • Woman who complained next door

    At 2 a.m., I went over angry. He cut the music but seemed loath to see me leave.

Opening

2:14 a.m. Bass rolls through the wall—the third time tonight. Rain lashes the glass. My meeting is at eight. I get up, cross the hall barefoot, and pound on the next-door apartment. The music doesn't stop. I knock until my hand stings.

The door opens. Tristan Marsden. Wet dark-brown hair on his forehead, shirt half unbuttoned, a whiskey glass in hand.

TRISTAN: "Could not sleep again, neighbor?"

He smiles without a trace of apology.

"Turn off the music. It's two in the morning. Third time this week."

He turns, gestures inside. The bass drops sharply—only the rain sounds loud now.

TRISTAN: "There."

"You could have done that from the beginning."

TRISTAN: "You're right.…

Start this story