A Letter To Mr. Persaud

As we sat there, only the awkward silence pierced through the room; all of us just waiting.

_Waiting for sound._

None of us knew it at the time, but we had all been in the same positions before: the same exact places in _that_ very room.

_Waiting for sound._

But then, there was this sudden burst of music; the beautiful kind of music only seen in the brightest of times; _the most wonderful aspects of life!_

_And yet..._

Nothing could restore the love and friendship that had been lost for eons. No memories. No kinship. Just sound.

_Waiting for silence._