The House by the Ocean

She wakes up to the harsh afternoon sun peeking through the red wave curtains and reaches the phone to find out it is past noon. She drags her lithe body toward the transparent windowpane offering a view of the Chicago skyline, a conglomerate of buildings of varying heights, jutting upward in alarming verticality as if they were competing with one another to be the tallest. The rug is smudged in one corner, probably spilled red wine or possibly blood. The cries of the baby pierce through one wall. Through another, the bickering of a couple swells in rhythmic violence as the room shrinks to confine Lilith. The phone buzzes through the cacophony making her wish she could scrape off her ears.