Member-only story
Even if everyone disappeared, Robin’s world wouldn’t be any quieter.
No one is ever really talking to Robin, or they would have touched him — jolted him from his dream.
Someone would be looking directly through him, gums flapping, fingers pointing, anger in their eyes, a curly black locke bobbing over a wrinkled brow as they approached in angst. But then he’d realize there was someone behind him, and a fight would break out… but that wouldn’t hold his interest.
Things aren’t the same without noise.
Noise use to attach itself to the important stuff. A car crash; high-pitched screech, always accompanied by the sound of shattering glass, followed by sirens. Or was it the other way around?
Without sound, Robin’s attention was like the tip of a pen light. He either looked at something or he didn’t.
And he never looked at things that reminded him of the power of sound. He, or maybe it was his eyes, would decide what was important and what wasn’t.
Gums flapping, knuckles slapping skin, men yelling, a woman screaming… Those were things that got people’s attention. It was a loud world outside of Robin’s head.
Just colors, he thought briefly. Then the totality of his risky stagnation got…