I Heard the Vacuum in the Next Flat and Felt Jealous of Someone Else’s Determination

Dear Delyara, It was just the muffled sound of a machine through the wall, one of those ordinary neighbour-noises that usually barely register. But tonight it sounded almost heroic to me. Someone, somewhere, had enough energy left at that hour to vacuum with intention. I looked at my own living room and felt that odd private shame women carry when the house is not terrible but not right enough to soothe them either. A cushion wrong, a basket not emptied, the table still holding too much of the day. I didn’t vacuum. I didn’t even tidy much. I just sat there listening to somebody else’s effort through the wall and felt how thin my own margin had become. That sound stayed with me longer than it should have.