The crickets outside are loudest animal on the planet. I lean my head against the cool wet window and listen to the sound of the machine running in the mechanical room next door. The sink drips but I refuse to walk over and tighten the knob because the back of my hand will rub against the grimy plates I've refused to move. Cracks fill the bathroom as the pipes that run up and down the walls are cooling off from the hot shower I took an hour ago. Jake is in the next room, not snoring but breathing loud enough for me to hear and possibly worry about asbestos. Some new pop band singing the new teen angst anthem is leaking from my snoring roommates bedroom. Little buzzing rumbles across the floor as the people downstairs are waking up to get their showers. The static fades in and out on the old muted television.
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