Dead summer silence, those that do so every year are on holidays again this year, and there is not a sound from the streets. A neighbours child complains, a bell rings twice. That is all right, but otherwise there is no soun.d. Not even the birds, so noisy in springtime, are making a sound now. They have simply stopped. They will probably be back next year.
The family is asleep, the cat is wandering about seeking attention.
After thirty years of work for a company, it is strange not to have anything much to go to, to attend to, or to see about.
The strangest thing is the loneliness that comes from being able to avoid the unpleasant people, those that were impossible to avoid earlier.
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