Walking into a dark hallway in an unfamiliar house and I hear it. DRIP. It falls heavily and slow. Echoing through the sound of my own memory. Fumbling forward towards what I hope to be this noise, it has been torturing me for hours. DRIP. Now, this noise resonates through my brain, as if I can feel it. Finding another step my legs propel my insanity into needing that sound. While wrestling with the reality of finding the cause of my delusion DRIP. Such a sweet sound as my bloodshot eyes scour my surroundings. The splash of this fall is close enough to taste the smaller droplets after it plummets. Surveying the environment for clues, a sink gives up no answers. DRIP. Directly behind me, the shower becomes the obvious answer. Water pooled in the bottom from consistent drops since it’s last use. I now realize how I needed those drops. Every ounce of my being was the gravity in which it fell. DRIP. Staring blurry-eyed at my reflection in the small puddles scattered across the shower floor, my focus quickly shifts to a hard twist of the loose shower knob. Carefully I watch the last drop form as pressure decreases and it finally falls with grace. DRIP.

DRIP.