The drip started at 2 AM. Not a trickle. A rhythm. One drop every four seconds. I counted. I timed it. I lay in bed calculating gallons per day. Gallons per month. The water bill I could not afford. The environmental guilt I did not need. I got up. Stood in the bathroom. Stared at …
It was 11:47 PM. I know because I checked my phone while lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to happen again. The creak. That high-pitched whine from my bathroom door hinge every time my partner got up to use the toilet. It had been going on for three weeks. I had …