When I go to bed I hear a soft ringing. Not tinnitus, or something you'd complain about, just a tiny reminder that I disregarded warnings about loud music.

When I go to work on something, something mundane, something that requires concentration, I will hear the loop of memories that sometimes fill my head with shame.

When I talk too much or get too involved, I hear the fence shaking warnings that it's time to stop.

I suspect that finally I will hear plainly that I have never lived, that I missed all my chances.

I suspect that the last things I'll hear are my heartbeat, my breathing, my intestines, my body.

I suspect that the last thing I smell will be my own blood, one moment from being dirt again, and wonder why I never smelled it before.