You hear a polite knock on the door . The closet door .

I am awoken by a polite yet insistent knocking, coming from behind my wardrobe door. 
 
 With a sigh, I check the clock on the bedside table. The illuminated numbers tell me that it is 3:15AM. 
 
 God dammit. 
 
 Flipping the lamp on I get up, throw on a pair of trousers, and then walk up to the offending furniture. I touch the symbols carved into the door, in the order instructed - no, I have no idea why it works. I just know what happens if it's not done properly - and with sullen resignation open it. 
 
 `` Oh, there you are! I was starting to worry!'' 
 
 Out he walks, without a hint of tiredness, tact or indeed fashion sense. He's wearing those ridiculous purple robes again - the ones that put me in mind of my grandmothers old dressing gown - and of course, the pointy hat. He always insists on the pointy hat. 
 
 `` Remind me again'' I say with a touch of anger, `` Why you have to use my wardrobe''. 
 
 He at least has the decency to look sheepish. `` Yes, I am sorry about that. It's all to do with ley lines, you see''. 
 
 Before I can tell him just where he can shove his ley lines, he presses a clinking pouch into my hand and walks out. Muttering darkly to myself, I count the coins ( all gold, of course ) and then finally try to get back to sleep. 
 
 Bloody wizards, I tell you. If he did n't pay so much for his room, I'd have kicked him out months ago.
