Time to smell like David Lynch's office

An old, 1960s CRT television. A wooden shell. Hot vaccuum tubes with that classic, faint hum. All you see on the TV is static. There's florescent lighting that you almost hear turning on and off 120 times per second. You are hyper aware of everything. You notice the tinnitus in your ears and can't ignore it. It tunnels into your psyche and you wonder if you've ever known a moment of silence.

You turn off the lights and television and sit in silence. Somehow the silence is deafening. You go outside to escape. It's pitch black, except for a single street light, with its amber glow. You can't see anything but the cement illuminated by that light. You hear it buzzing through the blackness. You feel a cool breeze light breeze that somehow pulls you to the ground.

The smell of wet cement starts to ease your mind. The tinnitus quiets. You can no longer hear the street light. It gets darker. Suddenly you remember a life of silence. You wonder if you've ever known a moment of noise. Your eyes close. Everything goes black.