this morning #1830.

this morning, the singing was the thing. the final straw. i tossed the sheet aside, hopped out of bed & got dressed. checked my appearance in the bathroom mirror. didn’t want to come off as crazy. rehearsed my angry face a few times, knowing it was a stretch. always had been. took a long, meditative breath. now or never. tired of playing “fifty ways to wake your neighbor.” done with keeping it myself. prayed that the man on the other side of our shared wall isn’t some kind of psycho. walked into the hall with all the nerve i could muster. arrived at their door. one, two, three. knocked. forceful but not like a cop. waited as their weighty steps clomped across the floor. braced for the opening of the door.