Love Hard Laugh Harder

It was muggy this June morning. The air sticky, clinging to her skin, making breathing more of a chore than it should be. There was a faint drip, drip, drip through the metal ceiling, landing in a plop onto the worn carpet behind her. She cursed the leaking ceiling and feared what it would cost to fix it. This was the part of adulthood she loathed, unexpected expenses. 

In the distance, a neighbor was busying themselves with a saw; its irritating whine-like tinnitus came to life in the real world. Birds chirped, bunnies frolicked, squirrels ran and cursed each other out, fighting over the telephone pole. 

Sometimes, it was hard to believe that all of this quiet and wildlife could exist in a residential neighborhood. It wouldn’t last, though. As more neighbors awaken, the noise levels will swell, the critters will hunker down, and the cement-lined, suburban reality will take hold.