Heat rises. Sound travels. People die.

"Heat rises, but what does sound do?"  

My Mom was wondering about the trajectory of snoring at night.

"Dissipates." I said, remembering a New Yorker piece about old sound wave recordings. How people used to think noise never went away, only got quieter... so that somewhere in the universe, you could still hear the faintest whisperings of all the voices of anyone who had ever lived.... 

From across the room, Kasey cut it.

"Sound travels."

My Mom and I nodded.

I couldn't help but take this to its morbid logical end in my head. Every energy with its unique property and particular destiny over time.

Heat rises. Sound travels. 

And what do people do?

They die.