One Drop Three Drip

One    Two    Three    Drip

One    Two    Three    Drip

One    Drop   Three    Drip

Four four time.  Perfect.  Sometimes it plays in a weird rhythm.  Five eights or ninths.  Like strange Asian music. 

Sitting on the damp concrete, my back against the mildewed wall, I tap out a beat on my knees, my foot tapping an imaginary bass drum.

Occasionally there’s a misbeat ...

One    Two    Drip  Drip    Four 

.. and I add a jazz flourish.

You never can quite trust the slow leak.

It used to drive me half demented.  Now it’s the soundtrack to my life.

One    Two    Three    Drip



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words