A quiet thing to do

I was sitting there, phone face down on the couch cushion. The quiet in the room felt thick, like I could actually hear it. I just needed to not think for a minute.

When the quiet feels too loud

It wasn't about being bored. It was more like my brain was a browser with too many tabs open. I didn't want to close them, I just wanted to stop looking at them for a while. The usual stuff, like scrolling or putting on a show, just felt like more tabs.So I just sat. I looked at the way the light came through the blinds and made stripes on the floor. I didn't check the time or wonder what I should be doing instead. It was just me and the stripes of light.

Finding the small shift

After a bit, I got up. Not with a plan, just because I felt like moving. I walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. I wasn't hungry. I just looked at the mugs.I picked one up, the heavy ceramic one my friend made. I ran my thumb over the little bump in the glaze. It was cool and smooth. I filled it with water, not because I was thirsty, but because I wanted to hold something warm.

The weight of a simple object

Holding the full mug in both hands was the whole point. The heat seeped into my palms. I watched the steam curl up and disappear.

Listening to nothing in particular

The fridge hummed. A car went by outside. I took a sip. The water tasted like water. It was perfectly fine.I put the mug down. The quiet didn't feel loud anymore. It just was. I hadn't solved anything or learned anything. I'd just been there for a little while, with a mug.