click here to listen
listening time: 3m 32s
ever had one of those moments of uncomfortable silence with your significant other? moments of estrangement that seem to have come out of nowhere? on an ordinary night, one of you will be sitting in the armchair reading a book, and the other will be lying on the couch watching television. this is how you wind down your day, and it's a habit that's as familiar as the pattern of conversation that ensues. one of you will say something trivial or insightful -- perhaps something that you saw or read, or something that happened to you during the day -- and the other will reply with a sentence, a phrase, a soft hmm. it doesn't matter how the conversation develops, or if one does at all; what matters is that both of you are silently taking comfort in each other's presence, aware of the same invisible connection that manifests itself most powerfully when you're making love. tonight, however, words are simply not in order, and every minute that passes without the familiar non-conversation amplifies the possibility that something might not be right. you try to brush the feeling off, yet it remains. suddenly, you start to notice that a neighbor is stuggling with his door key, or that one of the light bulbs in the hallway that leads to your kitchen is dimmer than the others. a light but eerie sense of touble prevents you from collecting your own thoughts. you feel as if something between you and your significant other has been violated, and you have a nagging feeling that it could be your fault. is everything okay? you ask, and the other replies with a yes that you think wouldn't sound as cold if it were true. and so you ask again, are we okay? and you receive the same unconvincing reply. and so you let it go, but not really, and you're left wondering how this moment is going to end.
this is the soundtrack to that moment.