there is a constant whisper in the room. faint, chilling. like an owl talking under his breath. a pattern every few seconds and then random sound. the sounds are new to us. and weve been here two years.

a month ago i walked to the kitchen for a drink. from the kitchen you can see to the hallway which leads from alises room into the bathroom. no lights were on other than a single bulb in the pantry. door closed, light peeked from underneath filling the kitchen in dark yellow. it was probably 4 am. standing in the dark kitchen, i looked out to the hallway. there was no light there but i saw someone. moving from alises room into the bathroom.

back turned to me, possibly a woman. stout, heavy set. first impressions brought to mind a middle-aged nanny. dressed in a long grey robe. surely not my wife. she was asleep and alise was beside her.

my eyes dropped to the sink in an attempt to grasp what i had seen. snapping back to the hallway, dark again. nothing more. the hair on my arms stood straight as i turned for our bedroom.

i didnt look back over my shoulder. door shut and locked. its stayed that way every night since.

did i mention our apartment is haunted?

we went to the indians game yesterday. waited out the rain delay eating nachos and popcorn while we were pushed aside by beer-craving men in a rush to give their 4.75 for a dixie cup full of miller lite.

eating nachos in a wet seat with an indians poncho and a group of loud twenty-somethings who probably can barely tie their shoes to our right.

eyes diverted skyward with each plane passing overhead into hopkins. fun time had by all.

our room, althought not a square, seems to be perfectly aligned. i face forward and the tv is there. to my left is a dresser with clothes folded inside. on top, my watch, my wedding band, old trophies from my racing days, and pictures of alise. alise herself sleeps in the one corner of our room. she has a small bed made up with dalmatian pillows and tigger sheets. she refuses her room as a sleeping location. its merely a playroom.every night i have to have a fan on. i cant sleep with the pure silence ringing in my ears. it gives my mind time to play and that just causes problems. the fan is off to my left. below the dresser, beside the television.

off to the right there is a nighstand with a few books underneath it. currently michael chabon, james joyce, kafka, clive barker, and bret easton ellis. there are magazines as well. roundel, car and driver, better homes, parenting, HOW. a lamp on top. silver flake with a tweed shade. ikea, last season.

an alarm clock. dual settings. only mine is used for now. sena wakes up to alise or whatever comes first.

our closet light is on a sensor. you walk in, it comes on. but it is too sensitive. you have to wave at it to wake it up. sena gets frustrated, i find it cordial. hello, closet. our laundry basket overflows. never enough reds to fill the washer. they sit at the bottom. shirts ive only worn once.

vcr and dvd player. shirley temple, tarzan, its a wonderful life. charlie brown christmas, gladiator, blade, blues clues.

alises ladybug halloween costume and wet wipes. baby dolls and humidifier. pacifiers and golden books.

im on medication for pain. it makes my vision blurry, and i apologize. this domain name is going away.

alise sat playing and giggling while the rest sat somber and staring.

sometimes, we all need a break. but i wont be getting one for some time, im afraid.

last night i discounted the onion rakes, but juice burgers flew away in the velvet crayons.

today i am 24. happy birthday to me!

we took pictures for business cards yesterday. ive learned a few things about the people i work with. they all have trouble smiling, and they are all taller than me. but hey, thats ok.

to carter, i would put up my archives if they hadnt been deleted. sort of sad, in a way. i believe i still have my journals. but all the visual is gone.

sinatra and 3am go hand in hand like nothing ive ever known.

please dont talk about me when im gone.