Song of Silence

It was certainly not because she had nothing to say - it's just that it had been so long since she said something meaningful, and longer since she had truly spoken her mind. There were days, more common now than before, that a whole day could go by without a real conversation. The greetings by co-workers in the hall on the way to the copy machine, the catcalls by lunching letches in the park and the garbled apologies of fellow straphangers on the train barely counted for true communication.

If she should never speak a word again, would anyone notice? After all, she was no ruined Lavinia - although it was almost as if her tongue had been pulled from her mouth, she had no great story to tell. She pondered this on quiet a Sunday morning, as she walked in the stillness to mail a letter. Perhaps, in the future, communication in the written form would suffice to keep her attached to the rest of the living and moving world.

Where had her formerly obnoxious self gone? It wasn't long ago when she, so terrified of being forgotten, would have interrupted every conversation she stumbled upon simply for the sake of being included in the most minor of discussions. She was a great arguer of the most mundane subjects and was equally comfortable exaggerating a children's tall-tale.

She lamented over the loss of her voice, and felt that there was nothing she could do nothing to regain it.

E.Lin
6/1/01

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