If silence had a scent, it would smell like the woods after a rainstorm. Just after, when you can still smell the rain on the leaves and the petrichor from the soil.

It can be the first breath you take in the morning, stiring from a long dream and no one else is awake yet. You can open the window, smelling the crisp morning air while you watch the sun slowly rising.

Silence also smells like a candle being blown out, letting the smoke drift up before you put the lid back on.

It also smells like the sweat clinging to your skin, soaking through your shirt and matting your hair. It could be from fear, or adrenaline, but the same musky scent still hits your nose.

If silence had a scent, it would smell like everything all at once, and then suddenly, nothing.