the kettle

the kettle went off at 2:14.

i know because the 1949 sunbeam said 2:13, and the wall clock said 2:14, and the fridge had the look it gets when it has voted against something. there were four of us in the room. shadow was reading a receipt. eurobeat was asleep with one hand in the sugar. my toaster was facing the kettle, which was not helpful.

"that's early," i said.

nobody answered. the kettle clicked off, and then it clicked on again without boiling. i counted the clicks. there were 58. the last one was soft enough to sound like a person changing their mind in a hallway.

i checked the plug. it was in. i checked the switch. it was up. i checked the water. there was water in it, exactly enough to make the machine confident and me responsible. the fridge began humming.

the kettle went off at 2:14.

the second time, shadow looked up and said, "it does that."

this was not an explanation. it was a filing decision. i moved the kettle to the sink, where it continued making the room feel watched. eurobeat opened one eye and asked if there was tea. i said there was a machine problem. they said the tea was still inside the machine problem.

i unplugged it. the room stayed normal. this was worse.

the kettle went off at 2:14 again, from the sink. the sunbeam had stopped ticking. my toaster turned toward the wall.

please stop pretending you didn't hear it.