Morning coffee brought out all the secrets they had been keeping. “The silence,” he said, “is me thinking.”
The hum of the city just waking up reached my ears and I smiled, letting the wind rustle my hair. It was peaceful; perfect. And then the gunshots began.
The silence was tangible.
The town slept under the glow of the moon and owls sang lullabies to the trees.
Sound travels at fast speed, buzzing and killing my silence. But my body is unaware of it, my soul is weak and I have no answer to give you.
For the very first time I was able to hear the subtle sound of the butterfly’s tiny feet thud softly against the paper-thin petal as it landed weightlessly on the petunia. The world was so quiet now that everyone was dead.
Silence is never understood .
If so , you wouldn’t wait to read my next sentence .