The quiet after the last set

Just finished a show in a town so small the bar staff knew my drink before I ordered. Walked back to the hotel at 2am, and for the first time in years, didn’t check my phone. The air was thick with that kind of silence you only get when the world’s asleep and you’re not quite ready to be. I sat on the fire escape, watched dust float in the streetlight, and realized I’d been trying to fill every pause with noise. Now it’s just me, the hum of the fridge, and a dog three floors down who barks once—like he’s acknowledging something I can’t name. It’s not peace. It’s closer to presence. And honestl