I hate the woman who laughs below me. I don’t mean to. I just do…like an accident happening in an intersection where everyone is paying attention. Her laugh peels out, bouncing off bricks and windows, egging on my ears as I lay trying to sleep. It isn’t the day time when I hate her. It’s under cover of darkness, where she is faceless laughing neighbor, and I have curled up, one more night, snug against my pillow, wondering why I hear no one laughing with her.