Silence

Would you know what I mean when I say there are different types of silence?
There is a kind - a very silent kind- of silence that feels almost like an absence, an emptyness, a void completely out of place. A silence so silent that it hurts, and you almost beg for a coin to drop to the floor, for a mosquito to buzz in your ear, for a distant train to blow its whisthle, just to break that pungent, unbearable second of nothingness that should have been filled by words, by the ring of a phone, even by the also quiet sound of your email inbox.
And you wait. Maybe not holding on to very high expectations, even denying to yourself that the silence is there, pretending that it doesn't hurt, pretending that the many noises of the night are enough to fill your room, that you hear everything and the noise that is not coming from where you secretly wish it would come from never materializes.
Waiting, until the last of the 86400 seconds of the day when you wish the damn phone would ring have gone by.

Nothing.

Complete silence. Hermetic, absolute, unforgiving, unreal. So quiet, you almost forget it is there. But when it comes to setting your head down on a pillow you hear it again, that damn silence of an empty mail bag, of a non-ringing phone, of a messageless inbox reapears. On all days, of all days, today, that kind silence was what I most dreaded. And the silence stayed.

Two lines, they wouldn't have hurt anybody. Heck, I would have settled for one. Just for the acknowldegement that she knew what day was today. Today's silence hurts.

Good night you.