WHEN SILENCE BROKE

I walked into the laundromat. The washers hummed like usual, loud enough to make the silence feel intentional. I put my clothing in the washer and sat on my computer to do work. Late at night nobody is ever here. It remains empty and silent, inviting for me and scary for others. This night was very different than all the others. I was in a rush, focused on my work. So focused on my laptop I hadn’t noticed the man outside the window, his reflection layered over my own on the glass. Minutes passed before I jumped when I heard a tap on the window. I turned toward the noise to see a man dressed in black standing in the doorway.

I stare. Swallow. Force myself to look away.

My motivation remains with my work. But I wish I had looked up, left, and never came back. I should have paid better attention to what the man had in his hand. The brief glimpse of shiny that I ignored, barely glanced at, far too focused to care what he was doing. Ignoring every sign of danger, I try to type but the feeling in my stomach gets worse rapidly. I try to push myself to continue but no longer can.

The feeling is shocking really, when the man in black stands behind me, this time I notice it immediately. I slam my computer shut and try to move slowly gathering my stuff and standing to leave. Before I can even fully stand, I am met with a knife penetrating my back. I gasp; my back met with hot pressure; I stagger for moment and then shove him away. He’s caught off guard with my strength, falling.

I ran.

Leaving behind what I had thought was the most important thing to me. What seemed vital now is the last thought on my mind as I sprint away from the laundromat, my clothes and my laptop and my work. My life is slipping but I never stopped running. Not until I reached the hospital and jumped in the arms of a nurse whose name I learned was Sam. Only then did I realize how much I gave to my work and how little of the return I received back. I realized how I had mistaken productivity for purpose, I never went back for my laptop or the silence that once felt so inviting.