Talking To Yourself

“It’s quiet here, peaceful. The diner’s always so damn noisy, and you’d think it’d be quiet at home, just me and Carl, but he keeps the TV louder than Grandma did. I’m this close,” Debbie pinched her fingers together, “to getting him a miracle ear for Christmas. That’ll teach him to fall asleep with the damn thing blaring half the night.”

Debbie took a deep breath of crisp, clean air. A light snow fell, sparkling in the sunlight. But Debbie couldn’t see past the headstone in front of her, couldn’t hear past the silence surrounding her.

“I fucking hate quiet.”

Return to Jule