Small Places : Nick L Belardes [127 of 128]

• The phone is off. I turn it on. It slowly lights the room like a flickering candle.
• I dial Mulani's number as another set of flashing lights zoom past the window.
• There is an ambulance followed by a ladder truck. I hear Mulani's voice. It's barely a whisper. I'm not sure what she says.
• The sirens are gone. But I still feel them. I hear sounds as if bees are swirling through tunnels.
• I feel like I'm on one end of the tunnel. Even farther away is the breath of Mulani. Her voice seems attached to passing meteors.
• I look out the window. I see arching vaults of stars, bushy dark heads of palm trees, soaring clouds rolling over the darkness.
• I go outside with my phone. Houselights cast yellow-blue along the street as I start walking.
• A man pushes a cart. Beer cans rattle. He doesn't say a word as we pass. A cat scampers. A dog howls.