10.10

Tintinnabula hang in a curtain across your doorway. It's impossible to get through silently, so every time someone enters your home, you know it. Visitors are announced with a tinkling chime. Friends are greeted with a cacophonous crush. Lovers are pulled through by their tie, bells muted and lovely by the blood rushing through your ears. But the sweetest sound of all is there for me alone to hear: the wind brushing the conical perfection of a hundred tiny bells together as I wait for you to come back and choose me.