There’s a low hum of static in the
background. White noise, it’s
soothing, but noticeable
when taken away.
The sound feels like having a warm blanket
taken off your body, and the air in the inches
immediately around you dropping seven
A refrigerator has been left open too long, and it
begins beeping in protest. High-pitched.
Insistent, demanding, an unwelcomely petulant
child making their immediate requests known.
The beeping takes on a whining note, if a
fridge could sound whiny, and my leg twitches
involuntarily. If I were sitting at a table, my
knee’d be connecting with the underside of it.
My hands are full. The beeping picks up
again and seems to be sooner than I thought.
I want to throw something, smack the door
shut, and leave the kitchen. It almost feels
compulsory at this point.
My hands twitch, and it’s all I can do not to
drop the ingredients: the milk jug would
shatter, two eggs would slop across the floor,
and the butter would be ruined by the flour
snug in the crook of my arm.
Were I to take my pulse, I’m sure it would
thudding against the pads of my
I free my hands, one egg wobbling slightly
precariously on the benchtop, and bang the door
shut harder than really necessary.
The beeps stop, and it feels like pulling that
warm blanket back over your cold body.