What’s the quietest thing you’ve ever listened to for too long?

I was tracing a cable this morning—unlabeled, frayed at the end, running from a dead rack to nowhere. It wasn’t connected to anything. I stood there, listening to the hum of the switch behind it, and suddenly realized I’d been staring at that one wire for eight minutes. Not because I needed to fix it. Because it felt like the only honest thing in the room. What’s something small and silent that you’ve stayed with too long, just because it didn’t want to be ignored?