Silence. There was no sound at all. Nothing made a noise. The refrigerator did not hum. No sign that the heat was on. No air blew up from the vents. Just quiet.

The old man sat in the darkness. His eyes closed for a minute or two, then open to pitch black. The blinds were closed. The shine from the streetlights did not come through. A half moon glow laid dormant.

He walked over to the kitchen. Felt around. Opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. Kept the door on the refrigerator open and saw there were cigarettes on the metal table. The old man closed the door and took a Kool from the opened pack; stumbled around the room and felt the stove handles. He turned one to the left, and a great flame synged his gray hair. He smiled and turned the knob back to the right.

At the table, he sat. In the dark. Alone. He thought of turning on the light. But why bother? It’s in the dark that our imaginations run free, he thought. Silence let’s us hear things, he said.

The heater kicked on. Noise came through the vents. Only for a short time. Then it was back to quiet. It had been silent for a long time.