Sofia

I dropped the keys in the mail slot; in half a second, a rattle, the apartment was gone. I lie in a new bed now. The subway underneath has gone quiet, the floor doesn't shake as it did. There is a church outside my window, its bells ring, every hour, on the hour, great big giant bells tolling down the street. May runs through my dusty corridors, rattles every bone, stirs pages long sleeping and writes stories anew.

The window open, I sleep sounder than I have in ages.