The librarian

Sighs. Now I press keys. I do that all the time. My stomach. I do not know how the digestive sounds. Sole across the floor. Insoles. A bag set down, jacket, it sounds just like a jacket, just like that as a jacket sounds when moved. The rustle. Ball point. Someone who goes. Chair ejected. The noise that permeates everything all the time. The electricity, I want to believe. Distant voices. Predictable shoes. Caugh, that the mucus in the chest area. The sound of something rises.

Have you seen? Shoes. A yawn is so ridiculous characteristic as a yawn. Now I am writing again. It also sounds. Cutlery on plate. Crake. Now someone on the stairs. Up or down. Does it sound the same? The alarm on my broken phone I can not turn off. From his trouser pocket. It is set to snooze and beeps every quarter. I'm drinking coffee. It sounds like it does. Nails against something. Cough, cough. No screaming prosit, no screaming, thanks. The sounds from the disk. Squeaking. Among the dead. Moist finger. The librarian. Finally. Over the winter as well. What did you say? Yes.