the empty hours

in my dream, i was on a train maundering to i don’t know where. we rolled very close to brightly lit windows of apartments where lovers met and old couples fought in deep silence. then it passed by this apartment blooming in flames and no firemen in yellow turnouts rushed to help with their dull pikes and wobbly ladders. then i wake up to the hiss of a phone ringing and i reach out for mine by the flimsy bedside table and i hear somebody yelling hello. it is my neighbor upstairs. there are no missed calls in mine.