Thump

Lying in bed, I hear a thump on the balcony. Followed shortly by a creak coming from the wood floors in the living room. Body unmoving, my eyes are focused on the entranceway to my room. No blinking.

Everything is silent. My breathing makes no noise. The living room is still. The only sound is a whir coming from beneath me. It rises up through the floor and through my mattress. Staring at the doorway, all I can hear is the continuous hum from beneath me. With my head vibrating in tune with the whir, I roll over to the side of the bed and slam my hand against the floor, thump, thump, thump, yelling out, "I know. I know what you're doing."

In the morning, I turn my head so that my ear faces the floor, and I can hear it. The whirring. I get out of bed, pick up my mattress, and move it into the living room. Dropping it down right in the center of the floor.