I am writing this after everyone is asleep and the house finally sounds like mine

Dear Delyara, The dishwasher is running. The fridge is humming. Someone upstairs just turned over in bed and the floorboard answered quietly. The dog is breathing near the radiator. It is the first moment all day where nothing is coming toward me with its hand out. I think this is why I stay up later than I should sometimes. Not because I am irresponsible. Because this hour belongs to no one else. The tea tastes more like tea here. The chair feels like my chair. My own thoughts stop flinching away from interruption long enough to actually finish themselves. Tomorrow morning I will probably regret being awake this late. But tonight this silence feels more necessary than sleep.