The voice was laden with sadness and barely above a whisper, but Barbara was sure it was coming out of the sink. She froze, her body trying to jump into fight or flight mode but quickly stumbling into a state of paralysis. The voice couldn’t be coming from the kitchen drain.
“I’m sorry,” the voice said again, echoing against the metal pipes. Barbara had the strange instinct to grab her pull-out mixer faucet and drown the noise out. The thought disappeared as she regained her senses. The sobbing had begun again and, as scared as she was, she couldn’t stand the sound of someone crying. It was truly annoying.
“Would you stop crying?” she said, squeezing the bridge of her nose. The drain hiccuped and went silent, although she could hear the sound of sniffling. Finally regaining some peace and quiet, Barbara considered leaving the kitchen and watching her morning news elsewhere. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with. Then again, she couldn’t have someone crying into her plumbing every day.
Her hands were already slick from the puddle on top of her countertop, which was pooling from the sink. “Are you the reason my kitchen is flooded?” She said, her voice hardening. “Do you know how long it took to find bathroom designers in the Melbourne area?”
The voice sobbed back, “Your kitchen? This is my body!”
Great, not only was someone speaking into her drain and ruining her beautiful kitchen tiles, but they had also lost their mind. Barbara shook her head. She had always been proud of her kitchen design. Near Melbourne, good kitchens were hard to come by, and the city had changed so much since she had been a small girl, but her home remained the same. If this person was responsible for bringing an end to all of that joy, then she was glad that they were upset.
“You clearly have some issues that you need to address, dear,” Barbara called back bitterly. “But I can’t talk to someone through my kitchen sink all day. I have a busy morning.”