Zero

The neighbor is a shadow

standing on his back steps.

The fog is so thick it feels

like damp wool inside my throat.

He exhaled a single, perfect

hollow thing.

A gray hoop that hung there

for a heartbeat, like an O

waiting for a word to follow.

But it just drifted apart.

The damp air pulled it

at the edges until the circle

sapped and snapped.

He didn't say anything after all.