Nothing.
Simply the faintest whisper of electricity buzzing throughout the walls.
Nothing.
Merely the wooden floors cracking, acting out timidly and discreetly, with no effort needed, causing the complication to disperse up and away.
Nothing.
Purely the pitter-patter of rain outside my window, gliding across the gutters, dripping softly one by one onto the scattered pebbles.
Nothing.
Just the sound of crickets singing delightfully, lighting up the thick, dark, opaque night that melts itself across the village.
Nothing.
Only the rhythm of my breath, inhaling and exhaling at a steady and profound pace.
Nothing.
Only the few combinations of sounds that make up the definition of silence. Silence that spreads throughout the room like warm honey, dripping from a tipped jar. Silence that brings peace within. Silence that allows you to think and revaluate. The silence that cures all problems.