Just the Sound

The plastic button, cool to the touch,

a slick film of rain still holding much

of the fading porch light, a pale, wet gleam.

I pressed it in, a half-forgotten dream.

Heard the chime, a two-note ring,

deep within the walls, a sudden thing.

Then nothing. No footsteps near the pane.

No shadow moving, just the same

stillness settling, thick and slow.

I waited. The street began to go

from grey to charcoal. My own breath

was louder than any sign of life or death.

Just the sound, swallowed whole, inside.

Nothing left for me, where I could hide.