Static

It was yet another rainy day. Cold, bitter and cruel.

The dull, grey skies were of no interest to the thousands of people who crawled the earth below, each preoccupied with his own worries; his own joys; his own grief. Some worried about their futures. Some worried about their jobs. And some worried about the next day's meal.

I could hear shouting. Loud, harsh voices. Shoving, pushing carelessly, they made their way through the crowd to their destination. And there was chatter. Incessant, unnecessary chatter. A sea of voices, waiting to be heard; wanting to be understood. The cars behind us honked. The rain lashed the earth with renewed ferocity, the wind threatening to uproot the trees that lined the street.

But then, you were there. And for that split second, the rain, the people, the voices, the cars, all of them disappeared into oblivion, leaving behind a lull of calm. A whisper of silence.

For that brief moment when time stood still, we were us once again.