Sylvia knew there was something wrong when she looked out her window.

It wasn’t obvious. She couldn’t figure out exactly what was wrong, except that it was. There was nobody on the street outside, but that wasn’t strange where she lived. It was quiet in her house, but her roommate, Mandy, was out, so it should be quiet. At the surface, there was absolutely nothing wrong.

But there was. Sylvia got up, setting the book she’d been reading down as she did, and went outside. At least, she assumed she went outside. One minute she was in her bedroom, looking out the window, and the next she was in the street. It didn’t bother her as much as she thought it probably should. Not as much as the silence did.

It was everywhere, surrounding her, ensconcing her in it. It was normal for nobody to be out, especially at this time of day, but the silence was unnatural. It was almost tangible, thickening the air and making it hard to breathe.

She wandered down the street, her shoes slapping the pavement as she walked. The further she went, the more certain she became that something was wrong. Nobody moved within any of the houses lining the street, nobody sat outside on their porch enjoying the sunlight, nobody drove by. The silence pressed on her.

As she passed a small brown house, something banged on the door. Sylvia jumped, spinning around to face it. Whatever was inside banged again, and the door vibrated with the force of it. It hit the door again, and again, and again, and Sylvia could not move. Someone must have glued her feet to the ground, nailed them there maybe. She wanted to move, to run away, put as much distance between her and the brown house as she could, but she couldn’t move.

The door burst open. A young man shuffled out, blinking in the sunlight. He didn’t seem to notice Sylvia, simply descended the porch steps and wandered away. He seemed dazed, like he’d been hit on the head.

Down the street, another door burst open, and a little kid emerged, followed by an old woman. Doors all over were thrown open, and more people came out, filling the once empty street, wandering aimlessly. Sometimes they bumped into each other, but they just kept walking, unbothered.

The silence was still there. It had been briefly broken by the doors, but now returned with a vengeance. There was no escaping it.

Someone’s shoulder knocked hers, causing her to stumble before regaining her balance. Suddenly she could move, and she ran. She didn’t know where she was running to, but she needed to get away. Away from the wandering people—why were they wandering? What happened to them?—away from this street. She needed to go somewhere with sound.

Now the silence was tangible, the air taking on the consistency of syrup, invading her lungs, drowning her. She gasped for breath and fell to her knees, clutching her throat. People wandered around her, uncaring that she was suffocating, breathing the viscous air without a problem. Her head swam, the ground lurched beneath her—

Sylvia jerked upright, her chest heaving as she filled her lungs with air. Confusion set in as she recognized her bedroom. She was in bed, a book open in her lap. Mandy sat next to her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“It was just a dream,” Mandy said with a smile. Sylvia smiled at her, trying to calm her breathing and her heart.

Somewhere down the street, a door banged open.