The quietness is cheap. Everywhere there’s the sound of things not making a sound. You look around and it’s like the soundtrack has been removed. And the sound of a ticking clock has been added. It’s clicks comically on the mantle to remind us of our impermanence. Then someone slurps something and the spell is broken.

It’s the kind of day where I want to tear my head off my shoulders, hold it like a football and run blind into the yard with my other arm out like the Heisman Trophy. Of course, no need to stiff-arm anyone, who’s going to approach a headless guy running in his own yard.

Tick tock.

Less than 24 hours I’ll be on a plane.