Sometimes I hear the tenants below me; a son often comes to visit his elderly parents, speaking loudly because they can’t hear very well.
Many of us in my quaint six-plex live alone, and it’s the often eerie silence I can’t stand the most.
Although I technically have hours upon hours to read after “work” and on the weekends, I still never feel like it’s enough.
I’ve heard plenty of cases where people just can’t seem to focus on a book right now, but I wonder to myself whether those people live alone.
So, for now, I’ll be alone inside my apartment, patiently waiting for the future to make its way into the present.

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