Nothing is ever truly silent

Nothing is ever truly silent.
My lonely apartment on the third floor may seem silent, but I can hear many subtle sounds.
I hear my breath, slow, calm.
I hear the quiet ticking of the clock, bouncing off the lonely, blue walls.
I hear the creak of my rocking chair. As I rock back and forth, back and forth.
I hear the wind, gently blowing against the trees, which cast spooky shadows onto my sad wall with its peeling wallpaper.
I hear the chatter of voices two stories below, the young family that lives there has evidently invited their friends and family again.
I can almost see them talking happily, munching on a hearty dinner, proposing toasts to good health.
Their chatter is loudest of all the muffled sounds I hear.
I lean back in my rocking chair, listening to the noises in the seemingly quiet world.
Nothing is ever truly silent...
And this night was no different.