Story Snapshots

I was reminded today of the snippets of story I store. Hmm. She sells seashells down by the seashore. Sorry, had to go there for a moment. As I was saying, I sometimes forget the words I've written. I'll open my head, tap out the vision and then leave it simmering on the page. It's not that I don't have pride or celebration for these works - it's more that I don't know what on earth to do with them.

If it's not a piece of a novel, or an article, I tend to pet the work and then put it away. Which I realized is just plain rude. So I decided to share a short-short. It's a handful of a tale, but a romantic little ditty. I hope today's blog brings you a moment of entertainment. Tomorrow, I will return to my regularly scheduled program of trying to save the world - and better myself (one day at a time).

Notes Of A Moment

On a piano, the keys are the gateway to notes, and the notes the entrance to song. On a major scale, the formula beaks down into notes of: Whole, Whole, Half, Whole, Whole, Whole, Half. In life the glance is the opening to interest, and intrigue the first paragraph to love. We break down as Wholes of many Halves, or Halves of a Whole.

She sat at the small table, ignoring the edge that kept digging into her arm, and the mini pile of gum that was attempting to stick to her leggings as her knee danced around it. Her fingers glided over the keys, back and forth, over and into, typing out the words that no one would hear. She was writing a song of her own that would never be shared, just like she did every other day.  

On a sigh, she lifted her gaze to find him watching her. He had his head tiled, allowing dark hair to brush dangerously close to one eye, and a satisfied smirk playing across his lips. She kept typing, though her breath caught and her heart stuttered.

He seemed comfortable, like the countertop that he leaned into had been made for his support. Behind him busy, cackling barista’s brewed their potions and accepted coin in exchange for the nectar of waking life. No one seemed to pay him any attention, even though he now held all of hers.

Five seconds, or forty hours, she wasn’t sure how long; she stared and became lost in the moment. In those minutes, the music she created seemed to float up and into the air. Notes plucked from her heartstrings trickled down into her lap. She wrote fervently, not bothering to care if her greatest creation made it onto the page, only knowing that she could not stop.

He appeared to be listening. His eyes grew dark and the air thinned, so that she had to force herself to find breath. His lips lifted and the world opened up. In his smile, she found all the answers and questions. Delighted she laughed, and he winked. With a slow nod, and invisible embrace, his whole being found hers.

She took the time to taste, smell and revel in all that he offered. Then, he took his first step and slowly walked from the counter, down the narrow hall and out the back entrance of the shop. But as he moved, he appeared to lift his feet in time to an unsung song, and he looked back once to say everything and nothing at all.

Today's word is: opine