Then, as Andrew turned out the lights and fell asleep next to me in the earliest hours of that morning in March, a Tuesday morning like any other, I was overcome with a queer feeling. A foreign silence impinged on the normal nightly Hollywood noises - on the keening chorus of coyotes, the dry scrape of cars moving up hills, the racing, receding wail of helicopters in the air. I didn’t know then, but no one heard that silence. Not a single soul in miles.
Just me.
Afterwards, I found myself looking back on that night, on that giant, peaceful silence. I found fantasy trying to recreate it over and over again.
If only I’d known my life was about to change.
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