He began to panic. He clapped his hands. Nothing. He shouted his own name. The sound left his lips and died two inches from his face, as if hitting a wall of felt. The silence was compressing around him, turning viscous.
Not a jumble. A symphony of every sound that had ever been silenced. chevolume crack
If you listen closely—if you really, truly stop—you can feel it. The crack in the quiet. Waiting to burst. He began to panic