Water drips from the bathroom sink’s broken faucet.

The echo fills the upstairs hall;
it bounces off the Cornsilk painted walls and creates invisible waves that lap themselves against the walnut floors, and I spend my summer days
drifting along the sound’s tranquil surface.

Sometimes I walk down the basement steps to

find a wrench on the workbench and fix to repair it, but then I pause and consider how it will feel if we were to  drown together in silence.