At first he thought it was just the wind.
Then he heard it again.
It sounded like a rush of wind pushing through the hallway.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The pillow under his head was cool and damp with sweat.
He waited, listening.
There was a small crack in the ceiling he called Norman.
It looked like the outline of a man’s head to him.
When he first moved into this apartment, he’d tell Norman goodnight every night.
Winter made him forget Norman. He’d lost interest.
He started to feel guilty for abandoning his nightly talk with the crack in the ceiling.
The sound came again. This time he was certain it was coming from the kitchen.
He sighed. He felt like sinking deeper into the mattress and pulling the covers over his head.
He closed his eyes and peeled back the sheets and blankets. Cold air wrapped around his legs.
He swiveled his body around and sat up.
Rubbed his eyes.
Scratched his head.
—~—
His bare feet took him to the kitchen where he considered turning on a light.
He decided not to.
Nothing unusual here.
He remembered Norman and the warm bed. Turning around, his bare feet headed towards the bedroom.
He heard the noise again.
It came from the refrigerator.
He opened the freezer.
The icemaker was whirring.
He pulled up the lever, shutting it off.
—~—
Back in bed.
Staring at Norman.
Norman’s life had continued, even when he had forgotten him.
The nights he never told him goodnight, maybe Norman hadn’t even noticed.
Maybe Norman had new friends now.
He felt strange, considering Norman’s life without him.
Like he should apologize.
Or maybe it was too late.
Too late to make things right.
The silence continued.
He eventually fell asleep, dreaming of a day when he didn’t care.
