I steal the silence.
The air is crisp tonight, and my lungs expand noiselessly between breaths; I feel them brush against my rib cage in soft caresses. In, out. My chest hums with a certain happiness, a broken quiet. Slowly, I bury my toes into the soil and I feel them thrum below the earth. The roots of the trees send signals across my feet, primitive neurons climbing up my ankles.
The lamp swells in a vacuum of voices, and I swallow it up, absorb it in my pores. I close my eyes and listen.
The silence is a voice of its own.
Written by Hannah Butcher
©2BorNot2B. All rights reserved.