An uncomfortable breakfast is occurring this morning. I'm directly across from Jones and next to Abner. Abner is supposedly 'punishing us' by refusing to talk to us.
I have found that I am a sedatephobic, a person who has a fear of silences. I happen to have more flaws than people actually think.
The silence is unbearable and I feel like I'm going to die from suffocation. I close my eyes to concentrate and while doing so, let the jar of marmalade fall from my hand onto the floor with a crash.
The noise is music to my ears and I can't help but burst into laughter. Abner looks at me if I'm insane and Jones just rolls his eyes at me.
"Marion, may I ask what your problem is with breaking everything you touch?" Abner asks, staring pitifully at me.
I look for a moment at my marmalade-less toast sitting on my plate.
"You see, Abner, " I say, wiping hysterical tears from my eyes, "I happen to be a sedatephobic and I can't have silence for more than five minutes or I will pass out. And accidents seem to be the only way to cure that because no way am I talking to either with you."
And with that, I walk as quickly as possible out of the dining room, leaving a bewildered Abner and Jones behind.
I spend the remaining hours of free time (before I have to start heinous chore number one: dusting every shelve in the house) in the kitchen, snacking on cookie dough and writing a letter to Harold Oxley.
You see, Oxley is like my older brother. Another Archaeologist nerd, he comes about once every year for the holiday's, but otherwise he's out on excavational business. And no, we are not lovers. And we both agree that our only feelings towards one another are those of brother and sister. Anyways, I give the letter to Ben so he can send it and then climb back up the stairs, trying to drown out the silence by humming a song in my head and stomping on the hard wooden floor.
Maybe that's why I never like to stop yelling and talking...