The slow rumble of a CN freight train lumbering along the tracks through Bala drifts by on the breeze. The sound slowly builds and then fades off, never having gotten very close. But it seems to take forever to fade off, the sound dying so slowly that like that last chord of A Day in The Life on Sgt. Pepper, you're left straining so hard to hear its last gasps that you're never really sure when it ended. From across the bay, a screen door whacks shut for the sixteenth time today.
Somebody needs a new door return.
I'm way too far away to hear traffic from there but the guttural moan of that guy's tranny protesting gravity is loud and clear. Twenty bucks says the card players are drinking. The game keeps getting rowdier and rowdier as the night wears on. The phone rings again. Somebody's in love.