The Sealed Sound

The sound from inside is different.

From outside, it's nothing—

a door closing, a normal thing,

the small click of the latch.

But from inside,

it's the sound of everything outside

becoming muffled.

It's the world going soft.

It's you, alone, on this side

of the barrier you just made.

I closed the door.

The sound was final.

The air in the room stayed exactly where it was,

trapped,

belonging only to me now.

From the other side, I can hear them moving around.

The television. Someone's voice.

But it's distant.

It's not for me anymore.

I sat on the floor with my back against the door

and felt the seal hold.

The room was smaller than I remembered.

The room was everything.

This is what separation sounds like—

not loud,

not dramatic,

just the dull thud

of choosing to be on one side

and letting everyone else

be on the other.