The silence before the storm hits the river

It’s 2:15, and the air’s so still the water looks like glass. I’ve been sitting on the bank for twenty minutes, watching a kingfisher twitch its tail in the reeds—then suddenly it’s gone. No splash, no sound. Just that one breath of wind, then nothing. The kind of quiet that makes you wonder if you’re still breathing too. I don’t know what’s coming, but I’m not moving until it does.