Silence

I hear the first muffled thunks of footsteps on the hardwood stairs -- Olivia is awake.  Above us, the sighs and snores of those still sleeping keep time; dogs whimper and grumble as they sleep, dreaming of rabbits or chicken fried steaks. Outside, the occasional HISS of a car through rainwater on the road and the gentle pit-pat of drops on the skylight join the cacophony, to herald another gray morning.  The hum and rattle of my hard drive (dinosaur that she is, she serves me well) are the staff on which the notes are preserved.