It's been 45 minutes since the last time I felt my own heart beat. People don't usually think about it while it's going but it always seemed too loud to me. Like rain drops falling on thin sheet roofs on sundays when you planned to go out. Maybe it's the quiet. The kind that never quite cut through, always drowned out by the monotonous drone of humps and beats in the chest but this time it did. This time I heard quiet. Only the low hum of wind passing through slit beneath the door remained. And you sat there, watching, like something was supposed to happen. You sat there, waiting, even when room went dark.
3 am Prose block