Whispers in the stairwell last night.
I shouted through the door – Who’s there?
When I was 5, I was left to sit out on the stairwell, while my mother went in to visit a “friend”. A man approached me and whispered something into my ear, then carried on up the stairs. I did not hear what he said. I just held on tight to the balustrade as time passed right through me, like a ghost ship intent on some forgotten harbour.
Only the devil hears whispers and in the silence, makes his notes.