Lately I’ve been catching the bus to get home.
This particular stop is a popular one for the time I’m usually there, often, there’s a crowd.
Most days, I can hear the discordant mixture of sound way before I can see the stop sign. People talking, shuffling, laughing, the mechanic and hydraulic sounds of doors open and closing.
Today, there’s a line of travellers circling the stop, nevertheless, the usual cacophony is absent.
I sit, unnoticed. Once in awhile, someone glances upwards, passively monitoring for an arrival. It’s quiet.
I think about my aunt, and how she stayed quiet all through her prognosis, and remained there right through to the moment she left all of us. We did not know, not til the end.
Sometimes when things get too quiet, I feel stifled, and every breath suddenly feels like a struggle.
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