I had my iPod on and was walking the lonely streets. The occasional drunk stumbled by, and I saw them glance sideways as they caught a few bars of a song I was gently singing. More precisely it wasn't singing so much as tonelessly repeating the words as the song went on heedless of my butchery.
As the drunks grew fewer, my nerve stronger and the songs louder. A bawdy shanty or a classic ballad. Between me and the darkness it was just entertainment. That was until the song choice and the nearby events coincided beautifully.
The couple walked down the street, leaning into each other as much for balance as affection. Moving close to light one cigarette off the other. It looked perfect, yet as I started singing along it all changed. The meander stopped. They faced each other. With arms open at waist level. Hips slightly back and heads forward. I couldn't hear what they were saying (earphones in and singing) but it looked like I was singing the right song.
They left as they had arrived, walking, but there was a difference. I don't know that I helped. It does nothing for the tale whether I did or not.
No comments:
Post a Comment