Screech.

Silence so loud it aches without subtlety. Suddenly, I can hear the waves of electricity making their ways through cords. I can hear limbs of trees scratching against the windows, silent screams. Cars are roaring from miles and miles away. Someone breathes in a little deeper, and exhales a little heavier. I stare at questions about truth, finding myself reading them over and over again - mixing the words up to make new sentences. I read them forwards and backwards and turn them inside out. I laugh, and realize that laughter in an empty house equates to nothing. What is laughter if there is no one to share it with? What are stories, sadness, or fall days if you only have God as your witness? He may be a great listener and almost never interrupt - but without human flesh, the breath of someone's laughter in your face, the lips of a kiss on your cheek, lots of things become moot. I want to share. And I don't know if that is selfish or selfless.