Shh... be quiet

...but when talking to the bank teller or anyone who might know better her voice would turn sweet and soft with a slight inflection of apology rising at the end of each word. "thank you" she would say, making you feel like you were the most gracious person on earth. it was a line in a play, the tone of voice and staging she had learned. to be meek and always almost apologizing. she thought it would get her far but so far she has only stood quiet and still in one place. it is here in this space that thought and action have no effect on words. This emptiness grew on her, until finally in her and she became like the bottom of the well uncovered behind the old house. On some days, cold, dark, and alone except for the occasional fall of muffled echoes. Rain water collects and stays for days, damp walls, turning cement into sediment. Brown stone moss covered walls. It takes years for the moss to grow. Lush and clinging weaving their body along the surface. No one drinks here anymore. She looks in to the deep dark cool, and in a small voice says, "Hello."