Sai Ying Pun, 4:53PM – Warm.
Entry 79
An earthquake in the dead of night. Magnitude 4. The glasses in the imposter apartment rattle in their metal cabinet. It wakes me. The whole floor moves with a flick like straightening a bedspread. Earthquakes in Hong Kong? No way. But the glasses rattle. Still unconvinced, I assume it must be a rat and drift back to sleep, somehow at peace with the notion that at least no cockroach is big enough to rattle glass.