I
remember walking out for a phone call. I tend to get irritated when
people call and talk about irrelevant things that make me want to
hurtle the most inflamed profanities at them. These calls often get
long and loud so I walked out of the room to leave her in peace and
continue reading undisturbed. The time had flown and the call finally
ended and I walked back in.
The
only lights were in the room she was in. The door looked like this
partly illuminated gateway from some play not staged, bright and dark
all at the same time. I could see the edge partly drenched in
shadows. Her movement s inside shifting the light and making the
shadows dance across the door frame. Then I heard her voice. It was
beautiful. I walked to that edge and looked inside. There she laid on
the bed, diagonally on her stomach. Her legs bent n swaying to and
fro in the air to the tune she sang. Her hands delicately turned
every page, the rustle of which somehow perfectly played into her
voice. I remember she was reading Calvin and Hobbes. I remember the
song more clearly and painfully so. She was singing Yellow by
Coldplay. Not a big fan must say but she made my pulse quicken with
that song. She always told she sang that song completely and often
and even many people have complimented her for it. She sings well in
not too many words. I knew she has sung that song for others, be it
to strangers or friends, lovers or family. To me it seemed everyone
had heard her sing. She sang for everyone but me. I never asked and
she never sang.
So
I stood and I listened. But I didn't want her to see me. So I turned
and hid in the shadows next to the door. I remember smiling in the
darkness as the shadows completely kept me out of sight. I remember
taking that breath finally as her voice washed those words over my
soul. She sang the whole song while waiting for me to return. I
waited in fear that she would stop the song. I waited and I listened,
with my head bent, maybe in silent prayer or sheer joy. Her voice in
that instant was pure cocaine for me.
Her
voice was still echoing in my head, my heart still beating to her
song that I heard her call out my name. I turned and smirked my usual
smirk for her. I told her about the call and laid down next to her
breathing her in as i held her close to me. Hoping against hope that
my heartbeat won't give my secret away.
She
never knew.
She
never noticed.
It
is still one of my favourite memories of her.
I
still can hear her voice and I still hate that song for it.
She
never sang for me.
But
I still heard her.
