A Dribble

A Symphony

He felt her stir awake. There in their bed in their dark room, where the sun is flowing through the black curtains.

She couldn't sleep unless the room was pitch black, and he couldn't sleep if the room was dark. She likes wearing a nightgown, he likes wearing full pajamas.

And when she eats, she always has to eat the dessert first. While he prefers eating dessert for last. Her coffee was black and bitter, his was white and creamy. She was quiet until she was drunk, he was loud when sober and quiet when drunk.

People always ask how they got married with different personalities— opposites, even. They didn't believe that a relationship between polar opposites would ever last even though people preach that opposites attract.

But they were not of magnet, but of the hands of a pianist. How can a music be made when both hands are doing the same thing?

And there in their bed, feeling the sun on her skin, she slowly opens her eyes and looks up to see him staring at her like he is falling in love with her again.

No, they were not magnets but the hands of a gifted pianist. They were made for each other.

Because only together can they create a symphony.