I began the journey to my mailbox with hardly a care, giving my daily walk little thought to feed upon. I strode down the driveway unmindful of anything, musings far too random to pinpoint. The only sound I heard was the noise my footsteps made upon the gravel, for there was no one around. No people were present to disturb the still peace that loomed in the air.
Freeing the latch from its captor, I opened the gate, slowly, lest I should interrupt the profound silence I was so unaccustomed to. I executed ten more steps before I finally reached, and opened, my mailbox. I retrieved the mail feeling as though I were performing a rare task, despite the fact that I carried out such a chore each afternoon. I closed my mailbox with a mental shrug, ready to shake the odd feeling and return to my home.
Before I carried my prize back, however, I found my attention drawn across the street. Five horses stood in a line, their eyes fixated upon my presence. They looked on from their own gate, our gazes interlocked. We remained this way for a while, as if there were a silent communication passing between us, as if time itself had hesitated its continuous flow in order to allow such an exchange.
Then I came to, the moment breaking into consciousness. I walked back to my house, all speculation absent from my mind. Once again I listened to the lonely noise of scratching gravel accompanied by the creaking of a rusty gate.