Voices. Loud voices outside my window. Tugging on the blinds, I see nothing. Darkness, a little moonlight, but no people. Just voices.

At times, the talk was loud. Sometimes soft, a woman’s touch, telling her man to quiet down; people are sleeping. Eventually, he did as was asked. Mumbling incoherently.  Talking to himself.  Speaking in a foreign tongue. Maybe Spanish. Maybe Esperanto. 

I looked at my watch. It was close to two. The voices loud. Now she was screaming. Yelling. Do you think it’s my fault? she asked. Don’t look at me that way. Do you think it’s my fault? she asked again. Maybe you secretly wanted this to happen. You wanted to see me go through pain. Tell me, she demanded. Tell me.

No response. Just silence. And nobody there. No voices in the dark. Quiet.

I miss her.