Unanswered Alarms

We sit on the stoop in an empty Brooklyn night. A guy bumping reggaeton pulls up in a cheap white car to the stop light half-a-block away, his joyful music lifting up into the quiet, and the only other person out turns to watch, like he's thinking about reporting it, but can't think to whom.

He stands there for a while after the car pulls away, then crosses in the middle of the block and walks on the other side of the street from us, pausing only to take a photo of the inside of the empty drop-off laundry place before ambling on.

The music from the car fades to be replaced by the faint sound of far away sirens, and Katie says, "Unanswered alarms."

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One year ago: Defending Joy
Two years ago: Consolation

Three years ago: The Golden Hour

Four years ago: Workout Buddy

Five years ago: Just Needed Permission

Six years ago: In The Way

Seven years ago: Raggedy

Twelve years ago: His and Hers