Perception is never very clear in the moments just before you fall asleep, even more so in the night of the Seder. After four cups of wine (five, including the "haramat kosit" (toast) at work before they let us go home early) it's not easy to fight sleep long enough to work out if the noise I'm hearing requires action. A man, his voice hoarse and distorted with rage, is yelling. A woman is screaming. It's not really screaming. It's more like the terror-stricken yelps of cowering puppy. I can't make out the words but the situation sounds volatile. If I get up and go to the window, will I be able to tell which apartment it's coming from? It could be anywhere. We're surrounded by hundreds of apartments in shouting distance. I only know that the apartment immediately across from us in the next building is empty, so the sounds can't be coming from there. I lie in bed, not quite awake, wondering if I'm imagining it, too foggy to find the energy to do anything. I know I should be trying to get more information so I can alert the police, but I can't move. The noise has stopped. I must be asleep.