quieting
Friday, and I am the only one making sounds in here. Stirring my coffee, rustling the paper. Occasionally speaking aloud to myself. From outside, other sounds accentuate the stillness: soft sweeps from the parkway, a barking dog, the distant thump of G-20 helicopters. No work today and I slept in. Awoke to stillness. Silence. There is a vacuum inside me, similar to the dialed down level of ambient sound around me. Emptiness pulls the outside in — but the outside is muted too. I think of dust, almost imperceptibly accumulating on surfaces. Perhaps some chores, and cleaning, will pull my thoughts away from this quieting. I am very lonely.