Silence on a Sunday

In response to the Silence prompt at Writingthe200.

If there was one thing sorely missing in the house of Sanders it was silence on a Sunday. Such were the thoughts of Dan on his one day off from selling paper maps door to door that no one was buying.

But instead of silence his precious eardrums were being assaulted by crescendoing buzz-saws and weed-wackers of neighbors in all directions, pesky kids laughing until they puked at a some bouncer birthday party accompanied by mariachi music, yapping dogs excited about the prospect of wrapping their flapping jowls around chubby five-year-old legs making way to and from said party.

Add to this the miserable howl of older sister Bea practicing opera to the accompaniment of younger sister June hitting the wrong piano keys. His normal response to his sisters’ attempts at music was to heckle from the dining room while partaking in the snacks he kept hidden behind unused cleaning products, occasionally setting off an air horn, just for kicks.

But Dan was in no mood for such levity. His nerves were so racked by other people’s noise he couldn’t think. Instead he headed out the door to sell some maps. The sound of rejection would be a welcome reprieve.



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