It’s Monday. Again.
But this one feels… oddly quiet. Suspiciously still. The kind of quiet where you wonder if you missed a memo. A mass text. A cosmic “Out of Office” notification.

This past week, I’ve noticed something. Or rather, I’ve not noticed something.
People.

Where are they?

The commuter trains are less packed. I got a seat. I always stand. It threw off my balance and my sense of self.
Traffic? Practically charming.
The sidewalks? Breezy. Walkable. Almost cinematic.
Is this… peace?

Sure, it’s summer. School is out. Those who can, flee. They run toward beaches, cabins, theme parks, or vaguely European destinations with questionable Wi-Fi.
But this year it’s not just the usual suspects. The tourists seem to have taken the season off too.
No double-decker buses clogging the avenues. No fanny packs herding around landmarks. Even Times Square looks a little less like a sensory crime scene. When I took my family to the Botanical Gardens, we had the forest trail to ourselves. Wow.

It’s like the city collectively exhaled… and then went on silent mode.

There’s something a little eerie about it. Like when you enter a party and the music suddenly cuts off.
Did something happen? Is something about to happen? A comet, perhaps?

But in this above-average heat, the quiet is also a gift. A sweaty, shimmering gift. You can walk two blocks without dodging a swarm of pedestrians. You can hear your own thoughts. You can hear the pigeons thinking. Yucky, as my little niece says.

And yet, I can’t help but wonder where we all go when we disappear.
Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually.

Do we shrink back in the heat, tuck ourselves into air-conditioned corners and scroll through distant places we wish we were?
Do we step back to breathe?
Or do we simply melt a little, each day, hoping no one notices?

Whatever the reason, I walked into work today with fewer bodies in the city, but a little more space in my mind. Fewer distractions. Fewer collisions.

It’s a strange kind of stillness. But not unwelcome.

It’s summer in the city.
And the city, just for a moment, is letting us breathe.