My name is silence. The silence of the doctor as he walked in. The silence as they understood he would not be born. The silence of the phone line as she learned she was not a grandmother. The silence of the ride home. Too empty to speak. My name is the silence that will never come again.
Note: Shalev or שקו is Hebrew for serenity.
Somewhere far away, just far enough away that you won’t find it, there is a highway that goes on forever. Driving down that highway at 75 miles an hour, is a car that will never run out of gas.
On Saturday, May 3rd, 2025, at 10:40 PM, it rained a perfect rain. There was no buildup. The skies never darkened. It just happened. It was not raining before, and now it was.
There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red T-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.