A Silent Symphony - A Short Story

Nine

Nine;

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

I sat on the top of the hill, fiddling with the hem of my black t-shirt. Josephine sat next to me, her long brown hair braided over her shoulder. She had put on a crown of daisies and her brown eyes looked like pools of chocolate. She had bare feet, her converse put to the side. She wore a fluttery white dress that came to just above her knees, nipped in around her waist by a brown, leather belt.

We sat, not talking. Josephine was making another daisy chain, threading the small flowers together as if it was the easiest thing. I would never be able to make a daisy chain. I may have had my Grandmother's quick and nimble pianist's fingers, but they were pretty useless at everything else. Heck, even now they were pretty bad at playing the piano. But with Josephine, I felt as if I wasn't completely and utter useless. I had managed to play the first bar of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', but even that wasn't exactly an achievement when I used to be able to play 'Flight of the Bumblebee' as if it were second nature. It was funny, really, how losing your hearing affected how you played.

But I was going to get there someday. I had months before February 14th. I had time to learn. And I was usually quite a fast learner, well. I used to be.

We watched the Sun start to descend, making the sky go a thousand different hues of pink, orange and blue. And even though it was beautiful, it didn't come as close to as beautiful as the girl who sat beside me, watching the sunset in silence.