From What The Silence Kept · Part I
The Scent Inside the Silence
My heavy eyelids finally close, and the darkness of the room takes over. But as my breathing slows, a scent drifts in from nowhere.
It is not the clean smell of new bedsheets. It is old wood, damp and musty, like floorboards that have lived through years of sun and rain, something that has been rotting away inside my mind.
In an instant the clean white ceiling fades. It becomes the dark shapes of wooden beams, the rain stains on the walls of my memory. I can hear the floorboards creak as someone walks by. That damp, heavy air from the old cabinets brings it all back so clearly, as if it happened yesterday.

