a melody so good it was worth staying in the train for
it started light, like the sound of a waterfall in the distance; noticeable only with intent from the listeners perspective.
it was soon that i was crying. incomprehensibly, to anyone and me.
the musician was a young girl wearing indistinguishable clothes and a red scarf. her hair was tied in a low pony and her eyes looked at something beyond reach: her memory, perhaps, as she played mindlessly but with decision still, that mesmerizing song.
☆
Her voice meandered through his ears as she sang. It was like a prayer, like the choir of hundreds of angels singing to a god he only knew when he was with her. His head rested in her lap, her soothing hands tracing tiny rivulets in the white locks of his hair, lulling him to sleep. Cherry blossoms fell around them, recalling the first day he saw her back in school, and when she smiled at him, he could swear he was floating.
***
She smiles at the memory, amber eyes flooding with the ghost of her printed evocation of a white haired man kissing her cheek.
A photo. A picture. A fucking portrait she wishes it won't fade under the cruel weight of time.
That's all he left her.
