Silence is like the space between stars: tense, dark, and teeming with truths unknowable. In its simplicity I become impossibly aware of myself, such that my breaths and thoughts work together in harmony like perfect thirds. I wonder, wide eyed, the musings of my peers. For them, does this silence offer comfort or disquiet, awkwardness or desolation?

Across from me sits a slouching girl with bottle blonde hair and teal over-ear headphones, glaring at her phone as if it holds all the frustrations of the world. In the quiet, I can hear her neon pink acrylic nails tap, tap, tapping on the glowing screen. Next to her is a boy with a shaking leg and an army green sweatshirt, staring at the clock whose ticking is too slow and an hour late. Is he anxious to leave class or to get home? I’ll never know either way.

You’ve known these kids for years, sat next to them in your classes, passed them by in the dusty hallways. That boy was once your best friend, that girl your almost-sister. Now as you sit here without so much as a nod to acknowledge each others’ presence, one thought rings out in my mind, glaring like a firebell: how many seconds of silence does it take to turn someone you love into a stranger?