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A water hose sounds like a waterfall if you hang it off of a roof.
My fiancé brings me lemon balm tea as the sun rises. I water the marigolds as the sun hangs above, beating on my neck. I ponder life as I sit on our tile floor. I stare at the yellow walls and wonder why our landlord painted only one of the rooms pink. A blushing cheek…
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The glass is so clean I can’t tell where the water starts.
Slam. Slam. Stomp. Stomp. Loud and I mean the loudest laugh you have ever heard combined with the scream of someone who is about to be murdered. Stomp. My neighbor is home. I can tell because I’ve learned how his steps sound like tunnels above my head. I hear him in silence. Stomp. He is…
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The sense of nothing 