The cellphone made an impotent thud on the carpet. I hadn't even hit anything. I gulped and hiccuped but I was too feral with anger to cry. I threw pillows haphazardly around the room but the desire to do any real damage was fast siphoned out of me by an overwhelming hollowness.

I picked up the offending phone and scowled down at the time. It was still too early to get out of bed. I hated Sunday mornings most. New-born eyes unfurling to see my piano-playing long fingers stretching out across to the other side of the bed and finding....a cold pillow. The pillow is very quickly strangled underneath my armpit, as I attempt to strangle any semblance of comfort from its downy form. I always woke up too quickly, startled, not by anything in particular. Just instantly demanding attention and animation from everything around me. He was sluggish in the mornings and found this morning person lying next to him an anathema.

So who the hell did she think she was?

I got out of bed and walked sullenly past Vinnie, the abominable snowman of a cat that belonged to my flatmate. Vinnie launched into full-scale accusatory meowing, I'm hungry, I want petting! Ugggh, I wanted to get down on my knees and wag my finger at the cat for his demands. I'm tired of all this co-dependence, I would say in cat-speak. Leave me be!

I re-wound, played again, increased the volume, re-wound. The slight slur in his voice, the flurry with which he announced where he was, the feminine giggling and merriment in the background. And before I had had the opportunity to say much more than an awkward hello knowing that she was listening to everything he said, the line went dead. And the phone flew vehemently out of my hand.

I finished eating my soggy vegemite toast, completely devoid of any flavour, mindless chewing, resenting the alienness of it in my mouth. I needed to move. I began to get dressed, and reaching for my underwear drawer I got a glimpse of something silken, the colours of cocoa, honey and cinnamon, it was twitching on the apple green pack of sanitary pads sitting to the right of the drawer. It's antennae making little circular motions. I fished the cockroach out with a tissue and transported it outside, feeling some perverse vindication that something so insidious could be found amongst my very own panties.