Rhythm.

Steady and deep-growl like gravel, the washing machine runs, spinning and spinning through the night.

A wash of pattering mist as sprinklers spring to life outside the window.

Crickets creaking, thrumming their own song, spotlighted by a half-moon.

Spinning and pattering and creaking.

Over and over again.

Eyes falling heavy and heavier.

Breath coming slowly and deeper.

The soft signs of life all throughout the house, in and out and in again.

A lone cry from a lone cat, left wide awake in the dark.

The slow whirr of an engine, headlights flashing through blinds, casting second-long shadows, bright contrast.

Nighttime rhythm, moonlight rhythm, whisper-soft sleeping-breath rhythm.

Spinning and pattering and creaking.

Over and over again.