I'm Not Alone This Evening, Nor Was I Ever.

Footsteps are echoing. Laid buried in my inner ear a pulsating forest, a din of mosquitoes, a conch shell the sound of crashing waves singing in loud decibels it could be tinnitus or cicadas en masse on the ground or on-route computer binary code laughter laughing at night, but I hear a heart pulse throbbing with blood racing. It could be my own, but then again, I hear footsteps leaving, shuffling, a murmuring child crying. A mother weeping. A window closing - 'Something tells me' I'm not alone this evening, nor was I ever.