I don't want my midnight prowlings to awaken those who are still sleeping. But I cannot stop the creaking - neither the floor, nor my joints. Louder, it seems, in the night time darkness. Still, as I make my nightly pass, daylight arrives in some other part of the world, and the world grows loud there. Floors, old or new, are given little notice, as people rush across them, workday goals in mind.
Floors are backdrop, background for our larger lives, larger and louder than any creaking.
I usuallly don't remember their names. All I care about is the magic age of legality. However, occasionally, their name will stick with me if it's an odd name. Last week, the short, brown skinned and brown haired lady didn't have an unusual name, but it DID happen to be the same as a friend of mine in college. I made mention of that, and she said that maybe they were related.