God Sees Your Heart

By the time the cab pulled up in front of my building, the sun was already cresting over the rooftops. My eyelids felt heavy, but my mind refused to shut off.

I dug out a crumpled twenty from my pocket and handed it to the driver. "Keep the change," I muttered, bowing my head.

Then I climbed out, slammed the door shut, and jogged up the worn concrete steps to my floor.

My apartment felt weirdly hollow the second I opened the door.

It was too quiet inside. Like even the walls were holding their breath.

No cartoons blaring from the living room TV. No Alia singing off-key from the bathroom while brushing her teeth.

I dropped my keys into the little ceramic dish by the door and stood there for a moment, staring at the silent space around me.

God. It was so silent.