The Instance of Small Sound

The window is open, and outside, the late afternoon traffic is a low, oceanic hum, distant enough to be ignored. But inside—inside the invisible architecture of my own mind—it is standing room only.

You know this feeling. I am certain you do. It is the sensation of waking up already behind schedule. It is the mental list that scrolls behind your eyes while you are trying to have coffee with a friend. It is the phantom vibration in your pocket when your phone is in the other room. It is the sheer, overwhelming texture of modern life: a life that is loud, bright, fast, and relentlessly demanding of your attention.