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This city is a loud one. But also one where no one listens. For hours, the young boy has stood at the side of the main street of the city, the sound of the train soft in the distance, barely a whisper against the ears of passerby. Conversations filter by his ears at every turn — colleagues murmuring about the next business prospect, lovers sharing embarrassed laughs and nudges, an angry driver waving his fist upon being cut off at the intersection.
It's so much noise, and it clutters in the air with no one there to set it straight. The boy watches, and learns, and carefully shapes his tongue around the words on the lips of passerby. Echoes them back, sometimes earning a startled look. Sometimes, an annoyed sneer. No one stops to talk to him.
No one appreciates the sounds he's trying so hard to learn.
Nighttime threatens to arrive soon, and the boy's breath comes faster, uneven with his panic. He wraps arms tightly around himself as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, lingering by the corner of the intersection.
As people pass, he parts his lips as though to speak — but without being spoken to first, he can't start the conversation. Silence serves as his prison.
It's so much noise, and it clutters in the air with no one there to set it straight. The boy watches, and learns, and carefully shapes his tongue around the words on the lips of passerby. Echoes them back, sometimes earning a startled look. Sometimes, an annoyed sneer. No one stops to talk to him.
No one appreciates the sounds he's trying so hard to learn.
Nighttime threatens to arrive soon, and the boy's breath comes faster, uneven with his panic. He wraps arms tightly around himself as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, lingering by the corner of the intersection.
As people pass, he parts his lips as though to speak — but without being spoken to first, he can't start the conversation. Silence serves as his prison.
