The Door Sound at the Next Stop

On the way to work with only my earphones in, I never got around to choosing what to listen to. I only want to block the noise, but my mind won't settle on any channel. I, too, have started wearing earphones with nothing playing more and more. On the bus, with the scenery slipping past the window without a sound, that was when I could finally hear my own footsteps. When I take the earphones out, the sounds inside the bus often seem stranger than usual. Only then did I notice that the doors close with a different sound at every stop. The speed at which the streetlights slip away outside differs a little too. I tend to take my earphones out while listening to the second hand of an old clock. There are times that sound seems so strange. Some nights, before sleep, once the earphones are out the room is so quiet my own breathing seems loud. Since I started hearing a different door sound at every stop, I find myself listening for the next one without meaning to. That sound feels like a bridge to the world beyond the earphones, so my ears moved slowly, at the pace of the streetlights slipping away. Once that quiet grows familiar, I find myself waiting for the next day's sounds. So after I take the earphones out, in that quiet, I come to know little by little what sound it was I wanted to hear. Only after the bus left the stop did the window go quiet, and what remained in my ears was not the engine but the stillness of that place. The evening wind passed the window, and the second hand in the room kept walking in place.