The silent

There was silence and none of us really knew what to say anyway; the air was too fragile.
Oscar was the only one of us who dared to breathe audibly. I had never thought of him as brave.
But here we were, gathered in a circle, speechless, breathless, and we all looked to Oscar now.
He was the only one who could break the silence.

Still, he remained mute for quite a while longer. Our hope was dying slowly as we began to glare at him; increasingly angry, increasingly impatient.
I looked to the others, but they were so silent. It hurt. More and more I felt I had to something. Maybe I had to be the first to make the first sound. But I was so afraid; my hands were cold, my forehead hot and my throat dry.
I had not spoken in such a long time, none of us had. Oscar still breathed heavily. He too was getting nervous. I could see it. I could hear it. So could everyone else.
In complete silence they focused on him again, his chest that went up and down with every breath, his unsteady adams’ apple.
We all watched him carefully. We did not move, we did not breathe, anything to prevent ourselves from breaking the silence.

It was then, after moment of high tension, that he, Oscar, spoke.

Slowly his adams’ apple went down, then returned, his chest rose and his mouth opened.

He was ready; he announced something grand, something powerful.

But I could not tell you what it was, because none of us were listening.


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