Quiet, Too Quiet

The tenements were quiet, too quiet small eyes peered through cracked curtains, catching a glimpse of the chaos below. How could that many people be so quiet? The wind moved the wet bras hanging on the line like dead octopus tentacles, blocking the view for a brief moment, a long moment, a lifetime. Who is that there? Who fell? Why was the balcony door open? To hang laundry? So sad. Wailing police cars and ambulances rush up, but noone is around, noone peers out the curtains anymore, she died, alone.