How does one capture the feeling of being overwhelmed? The thumping in your chest, the quick hard breaths forced from your lungs. With sound? With words written on a piece of paper? Or less likely, digital words typed out with two nimble thumbs? A woman stands in the wide living room window of her house on the hill above this yard. She’s outlined in a soft yellow light, her figure the dark shape of a person, a neighbor. A gray sky hangs low tonight. The tree branches aren’t full yet, just a series of crossing lines. When it rains you can hear the cars on 91 on the other side of the hill, past the neighbor’s house. Just faintly, though, that you have to listen. At the bottom of the hill, a field of crickets has erupted. A freight train slowly approaches. A freight train came through here and is gone now. The window of the neighbor’s house is empty but for a soft yellow light.

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