NOTHING HAPPENING (EXCEPT EVERYTHING)
IT WAS AROUND 7 AM when I sat down at my desk, the house still cloaked in morning quiet, the computer before me in hibernation. Eyes closed, I paused. I began to notice things . . . The unhurried tick of the wall clock. The baseboard heater’s quiet percussion—an irregular tapping that sometimes bordered on jazz. My constant companion: tinnitus. A steady, soft white noise more noticeable in my left ear—the ear next to the crash cymbal of my teenage band days. Then, a distant semi-truck shifting gears. My breathing. A brief itch on my forearm. Tongue restin...
