The Soundless Chimes
It all starts when a fat man comes in and the ground rumbles.
First, let me tell you a secret. I have a mighty ear. With it, I can hear all sorts of noises. I can hear every little rusty hinge from the store’s door. Tweaking. Creaking. Painfully slow. I can hear my boss’s snoring from the backroom—it sounds like a beaten dog, dying. I hear every minor noise—no matter how subtle, I can always pinpoint the source.