What does grief sound like? To me it’s like a ticking, a wind-up clock, or water falling, crashing against the rocks. It’s the low noise, against your ears, a constant hum, the same as the feeling of being shut in this box.

I’m cold. My toes are numb and so still, I don’t think I can move them even if there was space to. An eerie sound raises my heartbeat up like a crescendo, is the buzz in my head or is it out there?

Melodic yet deadly. Half-conscious, I think I’m groaning like a wild animal, my thoughts are scrambled, and I don’t feel real. No, it doesn’t make any sense. I could draw it for you, this feeling, but my hands are encased in cement. I’m helpless, and I know it.

But even so, I imagine that I can reach out to you again, that you will still be there. That feeling when your eyes lock onto mine, it’s unerasable.

Maybe the buzz is the sound of flying, where I am going, where I have been. I cannot time the sound, I cannot time the rain. I can believe it will be certain, I believe it comes again.