When you feel the emptiness of the air on your skin. When the quiet makes a space feel so daunting and elusive. When all the eyes turn to you and you are silently given the seemingly impossible task of filling the air. Synthesizing all of the buzzing pieces of your mind into letters, forming those letters into words and articulating those words into sentences, statements, paragraphs. It’s witchery, trickery, an art that you have yet to master. You stumble in the emptiness feeling it pushing its weight down on you, crushing you. You start, but falter, blood begins to rush to you cheeks, as your body tries to focus all of its energy on facilitating the transfer of the inner and outer worlds. The result is a concentration of blood in the outer capillaries, a beaming red face, a faltering stammer, and an empty space.