Elizabeth wakes me up before dawn and says that there are mice in the walls
by Marcella Hammer
illustrated by Karin Goodfellow
also in this issue:

We Can Hear
What are the sounds you wake up to?
by Nayiri Krikorian
illustrated by Dave Murray

Melodic Melodies
Ah, to be 17 and in the language lab
by Ryan Hughes

Noise
Just think of life without sound. Okay, now stop.
by Darlington Howland

Entropy
Old buildings are pretty damn awesome in their own way
by Jennie Ross

Morning Rituals
Everyday, first thing in the morning
by Arno Tijnagel

Elizabeth wakes me up before dawn and says that there are mice in the walls
Do you know what the mice in the walls are singing about?
by Marcella Hammer
illustrated by Karin Goodfellow

Melodic Melodies II
What do you think this kid's listening to? Maybe something instructional?
by Ryan Hughes

Listen
If you're not looking through the peephole, does the outside world make a sound?
by Ryanne Hodson

Concerning the Beauty of Subway Maps
I'm still waiting to see some of these at MoMA
by Georg Pedersen

Elizabeth wakes me up before dawn and says that there are mice in the walls, lots and lots of them. I pull her into bed with us, and she throws her arms around my neck like she used to when she was two. Back then, her sleeping with us was a nightly occurrence, but it's been a while. I realize I've missed her and that I wish, quietly and only to myself, that you were somewhere else.

I watch our daughter settle in between us, finally relaxing except for and her tiny hands that seem to keep moving, restless as birds. She isn't scared of the mice; instead, she tells me stories in her child whisper about the songs these mice are singing. "They're in love," she says, "and they sing about it all the time." I ask her what it sounds like, and she says, "Like nothing at all."

You make a snoring noise, a snuffle and a snort, and Elizabeth muffles a giggle. I smile at her and she presses her forehead into my shoulder. I want to stop everything, stop this moment, and keep her here between us, quiet as a mouse. Or perhaps I'll just reach over, and with a small push, you will go tumbling off of the bed and disappear forever. It would sound like nothing at all.