Sunday Six

I might as well call this Very Early Monday Six, seeing as I’m always slightly late to post it, but that just doesn’t have the same ring to it. In any case, six sentences for Sunday, August 10:

There is no one she can ask. She is alone in the apartment, except, somewhere, for the cat. The cat is holding some kind of grudge, doesn’t rub up against her legs anymore. They are strangers now.

Empty, the apartment amplifies sounds: the rain tapping the windows, the refrigerator hum. Even the sound of her own breathing gets so loud sometimes it’s hard to sleep at night.

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