underneath.

Privy to many amplified sounds unheard by the average ear makes up the life of a basement dweller. Some are welcome: The sounds of love in conversation and laughter from the unaware couple to the left, and the unaware couple to the right, spring rain hitting and bouncing from the window right above my head, and footsteps above me when I am feeling alone. Others are less inviting, like the can't-be-good ticking that comes from our ancient washing machine in the damp dark room that neighbors mine, the cat that meows as if it's being murdered in the early morning hours each time it saunters by my ground level window, and footsteps above me when I am trying to sleep.

The footsteps above overlap categories, and serve as anomalies. They bring me peace, and unrest. Tonight, I will fall asleep with footsteps overhead, and in my head, a basement dweller in so many ways.