white noise

Twas the night before New Year’s and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

We partied from sundown to mid-evening only — by 9:30pm we were crumpled in an anti-climactic heap on the sofa at home. Somehow we managed to prop our eyelids open until midnight, when the firework roar nestled in our ears like the drumming of a monsoon downpour. The soundstorm thumped long and hard on the strip of skylight lining the bedroom; it rattled through the single-layer glass and wrapped itself
all ambient around the pillow where my head lay. It was delicious white noise.

sparks

Tonight we’re dining on donuts and the bubbly dregs, leaning face-first into the silence that inflated like an airbag this morning to protect us from whiplash. It’s delicious, too.

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