The Echoes of Our Silence

Chapter 1

A train's whistle wailed in a hazy dreamy distance with a rhythmic chug-chug, it was probably miles away. A blanket of thick white mist hung in the atmosphere, gyrating with layers of snow on the ground, it was too quiet except for an occasional howl the wind brought and the pulsating sound of the faraway engine. Her vision failed to aid her, and she spun in the spot a couple of times, fuddled, trying to make sense of the direction. The ground beneath her quivered lightly at first, the tremor accentuated with every passing second and she shifted from foot to foot, suddenly a soft glow of light pierced through the heavy mist and latched onto her huge fear-stricken eyes.

Move, dammit! The command came from within.

The rhythmic chug-chug was loud and clear, as was her vision. Her entire body shook from the vibrations of the approaching freight train, yet she failed to budge an inch. The whistle went off again, screeching-warning her to brace for the final impact. Her eyes involuntarily snapped shut at the sight of mechanical wreckage hurling towards, its chugging overpowered her senses. Suddenly a watery face floated behind her eyes-

June jolted upright from her nightmarish slumber as a freight train momentarily shook her tiny apartment, the bedside lamp flickered dimly by its intense force. Its horn blaring then and suddenly far-away within moments as it whizzed past the tracks leaving aftershocks behind, similar to one behind her ribcage, her right hand shot up to press against her vibrating chest she breathed out slowly.

Damn that nightmare felt far too real!

Turning her head, she found the slumbering body of her husband, he was rolled over his side. A grey t-shirt stretched across his body, it's fabric weak from withstanding years of wear and machine tumble on loop, the result— a sizeable hole revealing a patch of his skin on the right shoulder.

He should give up wearing this one. But she never voiced her opinion about the t-shirt, like she doesn't on a host of other things. She let her gaze linger on his back for a moment, gravitating towards the warmth radiating off him. The cold tip of her nose begged to be pressed against the middle of his back, cuddle into the warmth of broad back & remove any trace of lingering aftereffects of that damn nightmare, instead—

She flung the covers off and the soles of her feet touched the cold hardwood floor.

Cannot afford cozy.

The digital clock read 5 in the morning on the 5th day of December and she needed to get ready for work, besides she wanted to get done with her morning ritual before Theo woke up. She wanted to avoid any awkward interactions with him with all her might, she was certain the feeling was mutual.

Despite the sweltering temperature of the water, her insides felt uncharacteristically cold. She stepped out quickly and draped a wooly robe, it too a victim of the same circumstance as Theo's poor t-shirt.

It was still dark, the world was still probably sleeping and her heart pinched a little at the thought. A fit of overwhelming anger and jealously at nothing particular bubbled inside her as she looked out the window.

Another blaring train passed by, jolting her and the apartment back to reality. Suddenly aware, she closed her eyes and prayed it didn't wake him up.

Guess what? It did.

Her hazel eyes met sleepy his green ones for a moment before he broke the contact.

"I saved some hot water for you" she hurriedly went to open the cupboard and fished out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Uhm, Thanks" Theo cleared his throat.

She waited for the clatch sound of the door to let out the breath she was holding on.

Theo stood in front of the sink, leaning slightly towards the mirror, it had spots in it, probably, old and tired from the reflection of the same people, but it was the best they could afford.

Theo purposely took his time in the bathroom, to give her space and to avoid chances of awkward interactions.

In fact this morning, he woke up around the same time as her but pretended to be asleep, giving her enough time.

June made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for both. Theo strutted in bringing a fresh woody whiff, his hair a dewy mess waiting to be smooth out.

He poured in some coffee for himself, glanced back at her raising the coffee pot, she shook her head. He stood there a while and she wondered if he will even sit down for breakfast.

He did.

She refused to let any thought dictate her head. A train passed by again, shaking the room.

This morning was a flurry of awkward dancing around each other's routines, a silent choreography of avoiding collisions in the cramped space of their home. No words were exchanged beyond the necessary, and once they stepped outside, the cold morning air did little to thaw the quiet between them.

They walked together but not side by side, both heading in the same direction yet miles apart. Theo's old bicycle often producing a rhythmic rattling sound. June quickened her pace, putting a couple of steps between them—walking side by side suddenly felt too intimate, too deliberate. They had never been the kind of couple to hold hands in public like the others she saw along the way—lovers wrapped up in each other, breathing in the crisp morning air, some jogging, others strolling with their beloved pets trotting ahead. June often made up stories about these strangers, spinning little fictions in her head to pass the time.

Like the couple speed-walking in front of her—perhaps they were spies, pretending to be together. The man had just received an assignment, and he was relaying it to the woman in some coded phrase, concealed within the rhythm of their hurried steps. Were they on the verge of disappearing into the shadows, slipping into separate lives as soon as the mission was complete? She let the thought linger for a moment before pushing it aside.

As the couple disappeared in the next lane, she lost interest. Then picked up her pace, though her shift at the store wouldn't start for another 45 minutes. There was no real reason to rush, but she suddenly couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze on her back. She never turned around. The familiar rattle of his old bicycle followed her—the metal frame creaking with each step as he walked the damned thing instead of riding it. She had often wondered why he did that, why he never fixed it or simply left it behind. But she never asked.

And now, it felt too late to start.

"Hey" she heard him holler from the back. 

She stopped, turning slightly toward him. He looked devastatingly handsome in his black oversized hoodie, with a white undershirt peeking out at the neckline—one she had seen him wear for as long as she had known him.

"Yeah?" 

He shifted a little, then his mouth curved upwards in what resembles a ghost of smile. 

"See you later." 

She hesitated and turned back towards the direction of her work. 

Somewhere in the near distance, the piercing blare of a freight train shattered the stillness of the cold morning. 

"Okay."