31. Aug 23, 16:18
The street was unusually quiet today. Normally there's chatter, the shuffle of people, the noise of a city alive. But this afternoon, walking back from the archive, it was like the air itself had been muffled. Dozens of people moving along, and not a single one speaking. Just footsteps. Perfectly even, perfectly steady.
I tried listening harder, thinking maybe it was me. But no, nothing. Not even the usual coughs or muttered complaints. Everyone just walked with the same dull expression, eyes forward, like they were following an invisible path only they could see. It was eerie, like stepping into an old photograph where sound doesn't exist.
I wanted to say something out loud, even just to clear the silence, but the urge died in my throat. Nobody else seemed to notice, or maybe they didn't care. When I finally reached the Archive doors, the sound of them sliding open was the loudest thing I'd heard all day.
I don't know. Maybe it was nothing.