We leave the windows open, and it’s cool in the morning,
at almost seven-thirty.
The tepid dose is almost enough to sedate us.
Children run past our building,
and we hear them from the top floor.
The children (they) yell, and it scares me.
I sit straight up,
and try to record-
by then, they're absent,
perhaps barely placing a purloined sneaker on the grated steps
before the bus pulls away.
I swear I hear laughter
(from all the way up on the top floor),
but there’s no saying who it belongs to now.
That’s the problem with keeping the windows open.
About the Creator
Lexys Quinn
Creative writer, social worker, psychology student, scientific editor, and research assistant
Advocate for the Oxford Comma
Instagram: seamsoflexys
Blog: Seams of My Stocking
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