Behind me, the refrigerator door sealed shut with a soft hiss, and the floorboards creaked as Ryan stepped into the room wearing his gray sweatpants. He did not look at the sink or the three drying racks overflowing with plastic parts.
“That thing is buzzing again,” Ryan said, pouring milk into a tall glass. “Can you turn the volume down on your side of the bed?”
“It is on low,” I said, rubbing my left wrist where my watch used to be. “Bodhi has been congested since midnight, and I need to hear if he stops breathing.”
Ryan took a long swallow of milk, his eyes fixed on the dark glass of his phone screen as he checked his reflection in the kitchen light. He adjusted his hair with one hand, his thumb flicking a stray lock away from his forehead.
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Andrew Collins is a contributor who enjoys writing about everyday topics, people, and ideas that spark curiosity. His approach is simple and conversational, aiming to make stories easy to read and relatable. Outside of writing, Andrew follows current trends, enjoys long walks, and likes turning small observations into meaningful stories.
