Silence

A Story by Stark

A short collection of thoughts.

Sometimes it gets so quiet that I can actually hear my own watch ticking, its arms moving slowly away from each other, then back again. And usually I don't mind it being this silent because it feels solemn and I can read and think in peace.

But it struck me light lightning on a stormy evening, that this silence I so adored being surrounded with was my own coffin. It was ready to warn me anytime that time was slowly but surely running out.

Yet here I was, enjoying the solitude.

How easily ironic life was made.