In that old apartment, the water heater grumbled, the refrigerator hummed, the floor creaked for no discernible reason.

The refrigerator hummed into life, lazily, as though it could do it by now in its sleep.

In the kitchen, the refrigerator was humming.

The refrigerator was humming loudly, like an old train chugging up a hill.

Crates of wine were stacked on wooden pallets around the walls, and an old refrigerator hummed quietly next to a cracked sink.

The refrigerator was humming, the jukebox was playing something soft and low, Ernest was laboring over another glass.

The tiny refrigerator hummed loudly in the kitchen nook.

The lights were out of order, but the refrigerator was humming.

The refrigerator hummed its usual little tune to break the silence and Donna drank her coffee.

In the kitchen the refrigerator was humming to itself.