Louisa Catanzariti

Little Black Book...?

Chiara woke up with a jolt. There it was again, that thudding from above. Sometimes, she liked to imagine it was a murder/suicide occurring; she was always a fan of the macabre; but it never was. It was just the hooligans in the flat upstairs that didn’t know how to turn the bass down (or what good music was; Pitbull certainly was not).