The fan beats rhythmically.
The dog laps water then clicks his way down the hall, flops on the floor with a grunt, licks his lips.
The El train beeps and rushes, if I close my eyes I can almost convince myself it’s the ocean.
Somewhere outside a man whistles “do the hustle.”
The curtain rubs softly against the wall.
Dishes clink in an unknown kitchen.
Gunfire from the video game my husband is playing.
The soft tapping of the keyboard.
The sound of my own breath as I settle in for the night.