White Cold Winter

In the stillness of my apartment, I boil water to watch something move. I like bubbles when they grow into noises I can notice like the ghost of someone’s laugh. I can be funny sometimes. Once, I slept on the floor because the bed felt too big, and there’s a saltine cracker I dropped in the bathroom and decided to never pick up because it fell exactly in line with the grooves of the wood. In the stillness of my apartment, I watch water boil and forget about thinking of you. I don’t worry if it’s clear that I’m listening.