At 6 AM in LA, a solitary man gets the newspaper from his front mat and heads for the toilet, to shave, brush and floss his teeth, and sit down for a read. One headline is, "Tenants want quake safety." In the next apartment, the clock radio goes off, blaring Latin music; a young couple and their baby wake. Their talk becomes an argument about the loud music, then some tickling, laughter, and a return to bed. As the man in the bathroom sits, the couple's bedstead bangs rhythmically against the wall, harder and harder: plaster falls, medicines descend from the cabinet into the basin, the toothbrush glass shatters, car alarms go off. Good sex or a 6.9 earthquake?