Evening

The woman in the kost behind our house is crying again and talking. Crying and talking. The invisible insects are making a singing, pulsating sound, like crickets, but i dont think they're crickets. The woman sobs and talks loudly between sobs. She is angry. Sometimes the man speaks. His tone is very quiet and seems either reassuring or apologetic. He doesnt want to make trouble. There is already trouble. For a moment he goes into the bathroom and begins to sing quietly, but then stops. The woman's voice follows him. Two little lizards chase each other across our kitchen counter. The insects sing. There are three pieces of clothing hanging on the line. A yellow shirt, a white bra and a pair of blue shorts. There's nothing else to look at. There is nothing else to hear. This happens two or three times a week. On the days the woman is not crying, she sings.