precisely three fifty-eight in the morning

Echoing up the hall. Again. Bouncing from plank to plank. The old stained wooden boards absorbing the metallic Birrranng, then catapulting the sonic distress further down the hall. Birranng,…rolling over, Birrranng…..Birrraanng. “What in gods’ name” I thought in my sleep, BIRRAANNG! … Continue reading precisely three fifty-eight in the morning