It was a delightful lazy Sunday. Colleen was enjoying the last day of her first weekend in many many months. She took the time to relax around her apartment which occupied far too much of her time while unemployed. But on this day, she breathed in and was troubled not by what she'd do in the coming months of her life, for she had a job. A job, I say.

But hark? What's this?
SQUEAK. SQUEAK. HONK. HONK-ITY-SUCK-SCREECH!

The horrid sounds of a saxophone at an amateur's hand. Intially she imagined a child trying as he might to get the sheet music just right for his lesson in school come Monday morning. The thought had an air of nostalgia that made this noise crime forgivable.

Yet some two hours later she began to imagine a different scene. One in which she called out, "Hey, Neighbor kid!" ANd the screeching would stop. A little boy would point to himself as if to say, "me?"

She'd then reply, "Yeah, you."
He bounds over to the window. The boy would eagerly await the message. Perhaps a word of encouragement..?!

"YOU SUCK!" Colleen shouts in such a way it feels cathartic. Man that felt good to get out.

The boy would hang his head in shame. And in that moment Colleen would enjoy the peace once more of her first true lazy Sunday.
And it was glorious.