Everything was overwhelmed by the stillness of the night. All was still, and veiled in darkness. The highway was still. The birds were still. The empty streets were still still from the night's stillness. The construction equipment near the new housing development was still. All was still in the twenty-four hour grocery. On C-SPAN and CNN, even the politicians were still. In the strange, shabby hotel near the heart of town, all was still. In the cornfields beyond the still city, even the raccoons were still. In the midst of all this mind-numbing stillness, Ethan awoke. He gazed at Elaine, who was still asleep. He silently crawled out of bed, saying nothing. He went to the window and stared out at the breath-choking stillness, and contemplated the vast cacophony of silence, and the dried mustard, spilled earlier on the sill.
Still, he thought to himself, I still might have a chance of it. If only I could find where Grandfather has hidden the device he used for making whiskey. He had been sure it would be under the stile, but the stile had been stolen, and there was still no trace of what he had silently sought.
Suddenly the silence was shattered when Elaine, awakening, emitted an Olympian sized belch. Ethan turned to her.
“Are you still angry with me for selling the steel stock?” she asked.
Ethan didn’t answer. He turned and left the room, still in his silk pajamas and stilettos.
She could steal my heart with style, but my love for her is still stale, he thought as he stole into the overwhelming stillness. Then he thought of that time so long ago when he had met, in one brief moment, Beverly Sills. It was the one memory that could still steal his mind away from the stampeding stillness that raged silently in his anguished heart.