writing against the quiet

Tangled in the stark white heavenly abyss where we rest our heads every night he lays sleeping. Angelic and soft.

I can hear him breathing over the tinkling of the neighbors wind chime. I’m pressing softly on the keyboard hoping not to wake him. He stirs. I draw my fingers back. Shh, sh, be quiet. I think to myself. Don’t wake him. I breathe in softly. Exhale. It’s quiet now – just the gentle sound of the wind coming in through the window. The tapping of the blinds against the window sill. The television whispers up the staircase. It’s not often I feel this quiet solitude amidst whirling city life. The cold air brushes against my arms – sharp like needles, leaving tiny bumps in its place.

I creep in. The floorboard creaks under my naked feet – purple toes and chipped black polish. I mutter under my breath. Piss. I reach onto the dresser and scoop up my Kiehl’s lip balm. The sunlight seeps through the blinds. I swipe the wax onto my lips lightly rubbing them together. Be quiet He stirs. I freeze. My thought was so loud I almost believe he heard it.

I creep back across the hall and sink into the chair. My stomach gurgles. He breathes in deeply. I haven’t eaten in over a day. The computer lets out soft hums. Something about it is almost calming. Click. Click –click. I swivel the mouse across the desk. Click. Click. Click. Reading away messages over and over. Checking site meters. Reading e-mails. Obsessively refreshing myspace. I faintly hear birds chirping in the distance. I let out a long sigh.

I’m cold and I’m tired. I shimmy into the space next to him. His eyes flutter and he cracks a sleepy smile. It’s comforting. He leans in lovingly and kisses me on my forehead. His warmth settles around me like a coat. Next door, an infant is crying. An ambulance speeds past with sirens blaring. Exhaustion sets in and like two heavy garage doors, my eyes sink shut.

Just another Tuesday afternoon.

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