There’s a rattle in my building, something with the duct work in the walls and ceiling.

It happens when the wind is heavy, usually twice a year when the pressure shifts as the seasons change.

Hardly noticeable during the day, the rattle is just loud enough to ruin sleep. But I don’t care, not this time of year. This change of seasons is my favourite.

The brain fog and dark circles beneath my eyes are a symptom of the arriving spring. And it’s no longer a far-off anticipation.

It’s coming.