Loud, right? The hallway, everyone yelling and laughing and that kid – not my kid, just some kid – he does that laugh, that *ha-ha-ha* like a sitcom. And his shoulders, you know, loose. Easy. And I remember doing that, trying to copy it. That easy way of holding yourself. Like you belong. Or just like… it doesn't matter. And then BAM. Not a hit, not a punch. Just… everything goes still. Inside. Like when the power goes out in the whole block and the fridge stops humming and you can hear the clock on the wall, tick-tock. But it's not a clock, it's just… nothing. Is that weird? Does everyone feel this? It's like the air gets thin. Like someone just pulled the plug on everything that's supposed to… *feel*. And it's not even sad, not really. It’s just… flat. Like looking at a photo of a really bright sunset but it’s just paper. No warmth. No orange. Just… grey. And you’re still standing there, hands in pockets, trying to look like you’re just… passing through. Like the kid. Like you’re just part of the background noise. But inside, it’s just the quiet. And then the bills. Always the bills. The numbers on the screen. And that feeling just… gets buried. Like a stone dropped in mud. Still there, I guess. But you can't see it. Can't feel it. Just gotta keep moving. Gotta get the rent. Gotta fix that thing. No time for… whatever that was. Just gotta make it to next Friday. And the next. It’s just… what it is, I guess. No biggie. But damn, that quiet. It’s LOUD.