The silence of the evening finally settled, heavy and soft, folding around the room. I traced the cool edge of the windowpane with my finger, watching the faint, distant shimmer of city lights. Everything felt very clear, the day's quiet settling deep within.
Restless
The hour is late, or perhaps early, as the sky begins its hesitant shift from black to a deep charcoal. A particular melody, unbidden, has taken root in my mind, a quiet insistence that allows no true stillness. The chill from the windowpane offers little comfort against the persistent hum of unspoken thoughts.
Hollow
The room remains quiet, only the distant hum of the city now filling the space where sound once resonated. A fine dust motes dance in the last sliver of afternoon light, illuminating nothing in particular. This sudden stillness, after so much purpose, feels vast.
