Silence smells like the calm after a storm. Sometimes it’s the quiet destruction of the past’s roar. When the cold breeze isn’t quite strong enough to rattle tree branches.

It’s the mystery of what has happened under darkened skies. The unknown of what you might encounter in the storms wake.

Sometimes it’s the gratitude that the storm has passed and anxiety melts away with the thunder.

The gratefulness that lightning no longer strikes.

Everyone is tired from the storm so puddles are so undisturbed that they reflect the passing clouds.

Silence simply smells like the aftermath of a storm. The smell may only last for seconds, but the smell of a lingering storm is unmistakable.