I heard the neighbor across the street putting bottles in his recycle bin as I walked outside. There’s a sound glass bottles make when you try to get rid of them quietly, when you hold them close to the side of the bin and reach down into it as far as your arms will go. There’s an instant when you think they’ll just slide the rest of the way down and hit the bottom without crashing. You always jump when they crash.
The neighbor next door keeps his bathroom window open halfway. It’s a high window, no one can see in or out, but everyone can hear everything. He was playing Mumford & Sons and singing along as he showered. Weep little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start. It sounded different with a Spanish accent. I started sweeping up dead leaves and he stopped singing but didn’t turn the music down. I wish he hadn’t stopped singing.
My dog sat in the middle of the patio as I was sweeping. He’s an old dog with a thick coat, so he’ll sit with the warm concrete below and the sun above baking the stiffness out of his joints until he overheats and has to go back inside. Tomorrow we go back to the vet to find out what’s wrong with his heart.
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