short fiction · 2026-10-08

The Weight of Silence

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

Silence is not an absence but a presence, a thick wool blanket draped over the shoulders of the kitchen, absorbing the clink of spoon against ceramic, the hiss of the faucet left dripping, the breath we hold when we almost speak.

It gathers in the corners like dust, in the space between the salt shaker and the pepper mill, in the pause after I say "pass the bread" and you do not look up.

We have learned to carry it, to let it settle in our palms like warm stones, to walk with it from room to room, not because we have nothing to say, but because some words are too heavy to lift into the air between us.

So we let them sink, let them pool in the silence, let them become part of the weight we both feel but never name.