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My House is Quiet

Autumn in New England

Autumn in New England

My house is so quiet, my ears feel empty. The click of my keyboard is the loudest sound, and when I stop to idly scratch my face, the brushing sound of my sleeve is followed by the fainter brushing of my fingertip against my cheek. It’s a deep and steady quiet, made for concentrating.

I’m happy to be writing. Have I said that lately? Some days, I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have this work.