From my living room, I can hear when my next-door neighbor is singing along to her favorite song.
In my bedroom, I can hear the apartment above me getting ready for bed.
I wonder if my neighbors think my apartment is vacant now because my Sundays are now silent.
They were my favorite day of the week, even though I stressed about work the next day.
Because Sunday meant I would see you.
My downstairs neighbors no longer hear me vacuum my carpets around 4:30 or
hear my dog would spin across the floor around when you knocked on my door.
The adjoining tenants will never hear laughter ring through my home, or my voice in conversations over dinner.
I barely whisper a couple words over the evening.
My Sundays are so silent,
I almost scream for you.