waiting for her life to make the old sounds it used to have.
Any time now, the house, which used to be so full of people will reverbrate and crash once more with the yapping of dogs, snatches of conversations, laughter, the banging of pots...
Any minute now, her father will come up the stairs and ask her to type his mid-term exam due tomorrow.
Any second now, the whisper of her mother's feet as she scuffles around the master's bedroom will alert her that she's in her puttering mood again.
Any moment now, her life will start moving again. The cogs and wheels momentarily held in time will creak and sputter to life.
Hold it... hold it...
She sits in her chair, writing down her thoughts, asking herself what sadness is, trying to remember the old music she used to hum along with.
It never comes.