That snore in my room.
That leaf blower in my room. It revs itself up to send away fallen leaves. Yet it won’t turn on. It just keeps on churning, attempting to find the air to function. Once found, it puffs out air and silences itself for a while.
That spoon stuck in the garbage disposal in my room. It rattles when the switch is flipped. No one knows why the sink is clanking. Back and forth, the spoon moves between the blades. It keeps on clinking until the utensil is removed.
That old radiator in my room. The clonking from inside the pipes that can be heard throughout. It is almost summer; the heat no longer needs to be turned on. Once shut off, the pipes take a while to stop moving.
That mail truck moving over potholes in my room. The car bumps up and down, the underneath hitting the cracks of the street. It stops every few houses to drop off papers. Rough driving ceases for only a while.
That opened bottle of soda in my room. Once the cap is twisted off, the bubbles sizzle to the surface. They encapsulate the tongue. The pink organ is stimulated and cannot rest. Rest only comes when the soda goes flat.
That damn snore in my room.
Elizabeth Lacey Writing 