Lives Mingled

McMoose is out playing poker. The baby is asleep and all three of the animals are lounging by the door, waiting for McMoose to return. They feel it, just as I do: something is not quite right. It's too quiet in here and the silence is oppressive.

I turn on the TV and the sudden din startles us all. It takes less than a minute to realize that it was the wrong sort of noise. What we're missing is the sound of another person breathing in this apartment. Another computer clicking. The gentle flow of intermittent conversation.

I tried living by myself after college for a year. The idea of it terrified and saddened me and I felt that I should face my discomfort sooner rather than later. In reality, my apartment became the staging area for my life and all the actual living happened at McMoose's apartment. So in all honesty: I've never lived alone.

The sound of footfalls on the stairs is comforting. If I have to be here alone-ish, at least there are others in close contact. We share walls with 2 other apartments. Our floor is someone else's ceiling. Our smells and our sounds and our lives drift lazily across the drywall and the wood frames and for once, I'm more comforted than annoyed by the smell of smoke wafting up from our neighbors downstairs.