Drip

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The faucet on the bathroom sink is leaking.
I get out of bed, walk to the bathroom, and tighten the knob.
And then go back to bed.
The water company will probably charge us more this month.
Not because of the wasted water, mind you. They have plenty of water.
Too much water, and it’s gone to their heads.
Now, instead of charging people for the water they use, they hold everybody ransom with the threat of opening the valves at night and drowning you in your sleep.
It starts with a drip, I hear.
Drip.
Drip.