Mine was an agitated stillness. I lived in a old house. Sunsets interrupted my dinners. I wanted to meet someone on the staircase. No one came, no one disturbed the dust. I spent an hour crying and hugging the bannister. God retreated into patterns of carpet and wallpaper. I calmed down a little when the sun was down and far away. I envied the old people and their pill jars; they slept the way other people took vacations. I put myself in my room and wore through the walls with hours of steady staring.