It wasn’t the fear of death, but the fear of boredom, that fluttered her heart just enough to give air sound and shadows form. For the few moments she straddled dreams and what she called reality, she alternately believed, with equal conviction, that the thud-thud-thud was her heart and then her neighbor’s music. The internal beat the metronome she pretended she possessed. The external beat the drum set at 4 am. Envy, disguised as rage, at the wonder of someone disregarding her existence.
“Oscar, do you hear that?” Where there are two or more gathered feelings are valid.
“It’s all vibration, baby,” Oscar murmured as he licked his paw pressing fur on skin, adding his own hum until beats were no longer distinguishable.
Anything not to fall asleep.