027/365 09/17/2025

..and then at some point the phone stopped ringing. No agent calls, no manager check-ins. No friends with exciting news. Days devolved into staring at the ceiling, moving a chair from this side to the other. Watching the pool robot hum its monotone tune as it floated in the pristine, unused water. The cat died. Bottles piled up. The robe became all-comfort. The rasp of turning pages seemed to fill the whole house, and on Sundays the whine of leaf blowers far, far down the palm-lined block didn’t start until well past a reasonable hour. There was no reason to call and complain.