That’s the cell tower they were telling us about, she said, turning to me. She widened her eyes, as if the tower was a friend of ours who’d just shown up in a particularly ugly dress, and we didn’t have the heart to tell her.

Who was telling us about it? I asked.

They stuck those notices about it in our mailboxes last week, remember? I told her I didn’t. Linda explained how the tower was supposed to improve cell and data service in the neighbourhood. I guess we’ll see, she said.

They must’ve started installing last night, I said.

What is it? She addressed this question to the dog, who was whimpering.

I debated for a moment whether to bring up the hum, and decided I had nothing to lose. I asked Linda if she had noticed it. A kind of droning sound, I said, that started sometime last night.

She looked back up at me, cocking her head to the side. You mean from the tower? she asked.

Well I don’t know, that’s what I’m wondering, I replied.

She glanced around and shrugged. I doubt they’ve turned it on yet, she said. They’ve only just installed it. Her dog pulled on its leash and began to lead her onward. But then what do I know about these things, she called back.

I’m sure what Linda didn’t know about these things could fill a book.

Over the next few days I managed to speak with a few other neighbours, as they were tending to their yards, or putting out the trash, but no one else seemed to hear the sound. Paul continued to insist that he believed me. I knew he didn’t, but I appreciated his support. Every passing day he grew more and more worried. I wasn’t sleeping at night. I started developing migraines, which I had never really had before. Whether they were from the sound itself or the lack of sleep, it’s hard to say, but holy mother of god were they intense. The nosebleeds continued, periodically. The thing was, the sound wasn’t at all loud or abrasive. It was just there, all the time, constantly wearing me down, eroding me. And yet, at times, even I began to doubt whether it existed.