The refrigerator cycling on.

Ice tumbling into the bin.

That little tick the oven makes as it cools, which always sounds like someone in the next room.

No footsteps upstairs.

No water running in the hall bathroom.

Nobody in the guest room lowering his voice on a call he didn’t want me to overhear.

I put the mug in the cabinet where the chipped set used to sit and shut the door with two fingers.

The island drawer still stuck halfway.