Luna was hopeless at being in love. For her, love both lit up the sky and blurred her vision, made everything go dark sometimes. Some people couldn't bear enclosed spaces. Others couldn't sail the seas. Some couldn't drink alcohol. Luna wasn't very good at any of those things either, but she was far worse at being in love. So, post-divorce and subsequent madness, Luna decided never to fall in love again. Instead, she settled into a modest unit near the sea and now that the nightmares were beginning to abate, looked forward to sleeping peacefully for the first time in years.

Luna shot up in bed with a jolt, her heart racing, clanking pipes and whooshing water reverberating behind her head. What time was it? She fumbled for her watch on the bedside table. 3am!  

As she gathered herself, Luna realized three things. 

Someone must have moved into the recently vacated, adjoining unit without her noticing.

They were now showering in the middle of the night. 

The walls between the units were far thinner than she'd imagined. 

The next day, Luna subtly scoped out the joint next door. Sure enough, a tradie's ute now resided in the carport, a pair of work boots sat by the front door and a surfboard leant up against the wall. Someone, probably a man, had indeed moved in.