The silence is piercing.
Falco was always hungry and especially active at night.
Thudding down stairs, hopping on counter tops, scratching at food bowls, yowling at the same feral cat out the window… but no more.
I hear whining and I slowly roll out of bed because Daigo wants to go out.
As I visualize walking to the top of the stairs; I briefly dream of myself falling down them.
Who thinks these things upon very waking?
I wondered what it might feel like to snap a bone on the rigid edges of the century old staircase. More history for them to record, more creaks.
I wondered if physical agony, if that, might be enough to distract me from the intrusive thoughts and poignant grief I find myself drowning in, yet again.
I could use the excuse that I wasn’t feeling well, the vaccines had rendered me lightheaded – no one would suspect intent.
But with my luck, I would probably break my neck and become a paraplegic – stuck in this world in even more despair.
So, I calmly walked downstairs instead. And now I’m just sitting, staring into nothing….
Listening to the silence.