Sometimes like now…

…I hear odd noises from out of the flat below mine. It could be someone fervently winding up a Matchbox car. It could be the zip of a tent, operated in biological panic. It could be a giant trapped mosquito operating in existential panic. It could be someone neurotically drawing a curtain. Now, that it stopped it feels kind of odd to still be thinking, let alone writing about it. Which is probably the sense in the hearing of an odd noise, if there is one at all. To evoke oddity.