Not silence, exactly. Silence has weight. This was a vacuum. Sora sat up in her studio apartment and realized she could not hear the hum of the refrigerator, the sigh of the radiator, or the distant wail of a police siren three blocks over.
She found the source in an abandoned laundromat. The glass doors were frosted, but inside, four silhouettes stood in a loose circle. They weren't singing at each other. They were singing into the space between them, weaving a net of consonants and vowels. -Clean Acapella- NewJeans - Cool With You
She did. That was the terrifying part. The voice knew about the argument she'd had with her mother three years ago. It knew about the dog she ran over at seventeen and never told anyone about. It knew the exact frequency of the loneliness that buzzed in her chest at 3:00 AM. Not silence, exactly