Here are the prompts last week's winner, @ordinary_vamp, has selected.
Use one or both prompts to inspire your writing.
Remember to check the rules.
Have your 100 - 200 words submitted by 12:00am Friday, June 14, US EDST.
We want anything and everything: poetry, prose, fanfic, OF.
JUST GET WRITING!
Leave your entry as a comment - include your word count, and your twitter handle if you have one.
FYI - entries that exceed (or are under) the word limits will not be considered by the judge.
P.S. If you look to the right, where it says "flashers," you'll see I'm linking the places where people are posting their flash fics - either on fanfiction.net or on blog sites or whatever. If you'd like me to add you over there, just say so, and include the link with your entry today. Shell xo
P.S. If you look to the right, where it says "flashers," you'll see I'm linking the places where people are posting their flash fics - either on fanfiction.net or on blog sites or whatever. If you'd like me to add you over there, just say so, and include the link with your entry today. Shell xo
@shellisthimbles
ReplyDelete101 ineligible words
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your heartbeat was the bass drum in the soundtrack of my life
though your voice carried my melody
it was the things no one else noticed
that filled my life with your music
your fingernails on formica were the clack of castanets
eyelashes blinking against your cheek were brushes on the snare
the swish of your dress, fingers on the cello strings
and your laugh, piano keys rising to crescendo
then someone else’s drunken mistake
silenced the sweet, organic music
that your soul played to mine
and replaced them with dubstepped beeps and blips
and the artificial sigh of a respirator
@deebelle1
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 135
They say the rhythm of ones heart beat can only be heard by the person whose pulse races to the same tune.
Me...I'm not so sure.
Shouldn't I have recognize his by now? My ears and eyes are open. My soul exposed for all to see, but still, nothing.
Thump...thump.........thump..thump...
Swoosh...swoosh.........swoosh..swoosh...
What was that?
My head whips from side to side; searching for the sound I just heard.
Then I see the most hauntingly beautiful eyes I've ever seen staring straight into my soul.
The sound starts up again.
Thump...thump.........thump..thump...
Swoosh...swoosh.........swoosh..swoosh...
It's then that I finally understand the only song I've ever wanted to hear being played between us.
Thump...thump.........thump..thump...
Swoosh...swoosh.........swoosh..swoosh...
And it sounds like heaven.
@BedeliaJane
ReplyDelete198 words
----
Velma. Like the girl from Scooby Doo. That’s what he calls me now.
Whatever. It sort of fits, and Velma was cool. Don’t try to pretend she wasn’t.
It’s not like I love him. I gave that up when I got the Call. I can kind of understand why he says those things about me. Best friends, and I cut him out of my life with no warning. It was a job requirement, but he doesn’t know that.
It also hurt like hell.
And okay, maybe I do still have a few feelings I didn’t manage to squash, because when I see shadows creeping along dusty linoleum, heading straight for him as he leaves a late play rehearsal, I don’t think about my mask—about concealing my identity. I draw my knife and lunge and stab and kill.
I can’t let him be hurt. Not by anyone but me, I guess.
“Bella?” he says, gasping and trembling. “What—”
“Follow me,” I say, taking his hand for the first time in four years. It still fits, but I can’t think about that. We need to run. More will come when they hear the death cry. “I’ll keep you safe.”
@megant_timms (sparklymeg)
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 196
FYI - I used the first prompt. Also, this is a "futuretake" continuation of last week's entry.
__________________________________
My fingers dance over monochrome, memories flowing from my mind, seeping into my finger tips. The melody echoes throughout the room, a sound straight from my heart.
It’s warm, like a dewy spring day.
Light and lilting, like her laughter the day I dunked her in the lake that summer, before making love in the afternoon sun.
The melody changes; a quick pace, staccato notes - as I recall frantic kisses and rushed visits from college.
A sweet, honey like sound, I smile as I remember her walking toward me in white, and later, our daughter’s first cry.
Minor chords and dissonance dominate as I remember the darker times, when the illness captured her.
When my heart shattered and my world changed forever.
“Daddy?” The study door opens, my fingers halt. “Can I play with you?”
She smiles and I feel my heart swell a million times over. So like her mother, it both breaks and heals my heart. She sits beside me, her little fingers tinkling on the high keys.
She giggles. We play a new song.
It’s rhythm is fast, strong and sure.
Like my daughter’s heartbeat, reminding me everyday why I carry on.
I know you by heart
ReplyDeleteI know you by soul.
Your love is the melody
That makes my harmony whole.
A crescendo of notes
For each thud of my pulse,
You draw me closer still
And I'm soaring on hope.
Away with the breeze,
Like a lyrical song,
My worries flitter upward
And float till they're gone.
I envy every inhale
That passes your lips.
I want to be inside of you,
Digging my fingers into your hips.
Finally, when I have you.
And put my mouth over yours,
I take what is offered,
And giving back even more.
Come swiftly my love,
A cadenza so grand
In this overture of desire,
And a reprise at the end.
@QuinnSkylark
Words: 118
Wordcount 198
ReplyDeleteSherbert20111 on FF
Sometimes a soul slips in, more often with this planetary orbit than others
I push open the control room door, clicking off my beeper. “We’ve got another one?”
Gartner winds his wiry body around to face me. I don’t meet his eyes, the new pupil-less versions weird me out. His voice is almost human. We get better with every generation.
“C2471, deck 4. Turn left out of the elevator.”
I say thank you, although he has already turned away.
-
The elevator car is utilitarian and silent. Anti-grav dampers means there is no start or stop, just the doors closing and re-opening. It’s like dreaming yourself into another place.
Music seethes softly through the speakers, Old Earth would have called it womb music. I suppose it is, in a way
The lighting is a muted orange, reflecting off the glass front and stainless steel canisters of every pod marching away from me in unending lines.
It's close enough to walk, so I do. I count the pod numbers aloud. If they can hear the music, they can hear me. I’d want to know someone was coming.
Decompression hisses him free, wet rust and moss green.
“Follow me.”
Word count: 200 words, on the nose
ReplyDeleteTwitter handle: @AnnaLund2011
~~~~~~~~~
The music. Makes me dance again, it shakes my bones, it wills me to hope again, run, skip, and smile. Smile at strangers, who, surprised, smile back.
My heart is beating strong staccatos, I have room for all of you, inside.
You rock me with your fun, you soothe me with your love. I cry for your aches. I hug.
Sharing.
Sharing friends, words, laughs; sharing silliness.
Moments of I’m scared, of Help me, moments of Oh god, why me?
Moments of You are not alone, of intense feelings. Of feeling seen, noticed, and being important.
I matter.
You matter.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, at the same time, in this wondrous world of contemporary—yesterday, today and tomorrow—hearts beating fast to the music of WANT.
Want a friend; something over the rainbow; want someone to just hear me.
I Hear You.
A need to be wanted. A wish to be seen. A desire for a place. A craving for love.
We have it all, we give it all. It’s a kind of magic.
An electrocardiogram of music—hearts united, beating, slow and fast. Steady.
So, no, don’t Follow me. Walk beside me, be my friend.
I See You.
~~~~~~~~~
So beautiful.
DeleteThank you, sweet man. You are an inspiration.
Delete@TiramiSue84
ReplyDeleteWord count: 199
Flasher link: www.fanfiction.net/s/9310617/1/Snippets
---------
It was the briefest of moments—a flicker, really—but it's enough to break my uninhibited euphoria.
In a sea of thousands of people, for the time being, the individual drowns in the sheer craziness of the mass. We move, jump and roar as one; sing-along with our powerful voice. Back to chest, elbow to elbow; we are one. We lose ourselves in the hysteria of others.
And yet, you stand out.
The glimpse at your face... it could have been nothing, but then you turn your head. Your eyes find mine and I'm lost all the more so, but for a whole different reason. Two full years cramped into less than ten seconds pass by me, and I have to look away.
Sweating people all around me, but I shiver; bright rays of beautiful color pass me, but with the first notes to a too familiar song, they all fade.
Eyes closed and lips moving, I wait.
Strong arms wind around my shoulders and middle from behind; hugging, holding me tightly. Lips and stubble against my skin.
I don't have to turn around to be sure, I just know.
“Do you remember this one? Us?”
“I never forgot.”
@sri_ffn
ReplyDeleteWord count: 199
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear sweetheart,
Pardon my handwriting, cardiologists are not great calligraphers. Our hands are better suited for other things. That was not meant to be taken in its ambiguous meaning, I know you are.
I write this letter to bring to your kind notice that I disagree with your assessment about us, I concur that we are different. Evidently, you are a musician and I'm a doctor by profession and we are moulded differently, we may also function differently and process differently, I understand that. However, I would like to point out that we are both passionate about our professions, we are both barely functioning without each other and we are both logical while processing our thoughts.
I take this opportunity to emphasise that we love each other, have been together for more than three months. May I remind you that everyone else is innately thrilled for us? Or that we’re perfect together? Please observe the diagram below; you may note that the treble clef and heart are flowing as one. This diagram is a true depiction of our future, should you reconsider your decision.
I miss you dear.
Yours forever
P.S. Trust me my love. We’ll make it work.
~~End~~
@Twilightladies1
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 200
I wake to the sound of a heart monitor, and I know you’re hurting.
The main thing I was trying to avoid.
My eyes find you sleeping in an uncomfortable looking chair. By the looks of it, it’s the first time you’ve slept in days. Your stubble is now a beard, and you’re still wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw you.
I want to run my fingertips along the frown line between your eyes, because I caused all this.
Tears fall freely when I realize what I’ve done to you.
To us.
I try to wipe the tears from my face, but my arms have wires and tubes coming from them.
I panic and my heart rate increases.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I flinch and cry out as I tug the first wire. Out, I want it out.
The sound jostles you awake and within seconds you’re by my side.
I keep my eyes down. I don’t want to see the hate that’s sure to be in your eyes.
Your fingers brush my chin and tilt my head towards you.
“What were you thinking?” you whisper.
“You were supposed to go on without me,” I say.
“Never.”
Oh you break my heart, woman.
Delete@boomboom_jones
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 200
Her candor shocked the hell out of him. He hadn’t remembered meeting someone like her before.
She looked past his scars, his messed up leg. She even hung around during those moments he disappeared, or blacked out. Physically he was there, but his mind? Gone.
He came back sagged and wide-eyed. How he managed to seem both shocked and drained was a mystery, though a tiny spark ran through her that he wasn’t completely lost.
She stood, offering her hand.
“People will stare.”
“Screw them.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
She laughed then, in spite of hope. “Really? You’re seriously asking me that question right now?”
“You’re an angel. I’m dead, aren’t I?”
He was gone again.
“I’m not an angel, though I am quite flattered you’d think so. I’m alive as much as you, so, just follow me.”
“Where?”
Every day was the same routine. “Outside. Fresh air…existence.”
“You’re very pretty, and nice.” Every minute was brand new.
She could tell him she loved him. Pictures of the two of them were tucked away; she so badly wanted to dust them off. Instead, she choked it down and squeezed his hand.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
@everydaybella89
ReplyDeleteWord count: 200
Music is in his blood.
From the first time he took me to his sanctuary—the private music room in his house—I have known that this is the language of his heart. It soars and dips, roars and whispers. It is something belonging only to him. Something us mere mortals can appreciate only from the outside.
I also knew from that moment that this was a portion of him I would never be able to touch it. His piano would always know him better than I would. He might decide to tell me everything he thought and felt but only his piano would fully understand. I could be his best friend, his lover, but I could never be his perfect companion.
I had learned to be something very different. I was his protector. He would get so lost sometimes that he didn’t even know up from down, or left from right. He needed protection and it was a role I gladly stepped into. He loved me, I never doubted it, but he would never leave his piano for me. So I had to keep him safe from everything that would take him away from it. Sometimes that included me.
@bebeginja
ReplyDeleteWord count: 178
Before you I was nothing more
than notes on a page.
Caught up in the placement,
the measurement,
the rest and repetition.
It looked good on paper.
All nice and neat.
It made sense.
And now,
your love.
A symphony.
With a gentle kiss
and a brush from your fingertips,
you pulled back the veil and turned what I thought
was enough
into a moving, breathing, growing, changing,
constant tune.
Uncontainable. Unpredictable. Unconditional.
Indescribable.
My soul’s anthem.
Notes that carry me away
to a place where fears make no sound.
They flow and bend and mend me.
The rhythm is relentless.
It pounds and vibrates and ripples through,
branding me internally as it runs its course.
Our hearts beat in unison.
One pulse, two bodies.
Two bodies, one flesh.
Cocooned in a harmony wherein
everything else
becomes irrelevant.
Your affection sings over me in my sleep,
I wake to your whispered chorus.
It calls to me and I answer
with every ounce and inch of my being.
Never let me go back
to being notes on a page.
Word Count: 113
ReplyDeleteTwitter: ShadesofPurple4
Fanfiction link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9298733/1/Flashers
Your heart is music to my ears. It sings to me when we lay together in quiet darkness. It tells me things as we drift off to dreamland.
Your heart sings to me of the love we share. How strong it is. How nothing will break us apart. The beats are soothing. I listen as long as I can every time we are together.
It once sang to me of how you wont hurt me. How you’ll keep me safe. How our love is strong enough to keep us from falling apart from each other.
Your heart sings of true love for me. The love I thought I would never get to enjoy.
“It’s a feeling. A heart beat.” Edward placed Bella’s fingers onto his chest so she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat.
ReplyDeleteBella couldn’t believe she was standing so close to him. She had been aching for this kind of interaction with him. He was so handsome, with his bronze hair and green eyes, and with his flawless skin. His features were like a sculpture of a Greek god. She couldn’t help but stare at him.
He tapped her fingers along with his heartbeat. “You feel that? Imagine your feet moving to the rhythm now,” he said, continuing to tap her fingers.
She tried to focus on their hands, but was mesmerized by his lips.
“Don’t try so hard, Bella. Close your eyes.”
She reluctantly closed them and concentrated on his fingers tapping hers. She caught wind of his breath, making her freeze in her movements. It was so warm; she imagined him blowing a heated breath over her nipple. She gasped and bit her lip.
“Breathe,” he commanded harshly.
Bella opened her eyes. It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore she saw lust in them.
“Again.” He tapped her fingers and their feet began the steps.
@LouiseClark75
198 words
@SerendipitousMC
ReplyDelete197 words
His fingers were wrinkled and worn from experience. I could touch each one and remember their stories.
Burns from the fried chicken he grabbed even after the cook yelled, “Too hot!” The thick scar left from the slice of a bayonet while fighting the Korean War. And the finger pads, worn and callused from decades of playing strings.
My parents knew there was no better teacher than my grandfather. Music was his path even when life took him elsewhere. Decades of pipes and wrenches from the plumber’s trade could never supplant the tools that best fit his hands: his cello and violin. He tried hard to instill love as well as technique, but my stubborn resentment would not relent, until he became ill.
He’d been felled by a stroke; his large frame lay dwarfed by the hospital bed. I pulled out my iPod and my mother pressed play. As Bach’s “Suite for Solo Cello” flowed through the speakers, Grandpa’s eyelids fluttered. His fingers lifted slightly, drifting back and forth, as if working a bow.
Even death could not stunt his gift.
That night, I played the violin perfectly, offering the thanks I couldn’t give him in life.
beautiful :)
Delete@bkhchica
ReplyDeleteWords: 199
I post my entries at: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8967834/1/Dribble-Drabbles
Music filled her soul; the bass line kept time with her heart. She spun around, joy evident in her giggles. Throwing her arms out, she tottered dizzily, the breeze tousling her curls.
He watched, smiling, joy etched in the lines of his face. “Daddy!”
“Yes, Princess?” He bent to catch her up into his arms as she barreled into him.
“Did you really write that song?”
“I did. I heard it in here,” tapping hisheart, he continued, “the first time I saw Mommy. It made her fall in love with me.”
“Tell me the story again, please?” Cupping her hands to his cheeks, she begged. Nodding, he carried his daughter inside to the piano bench.
“It began when my band and I were playing in the city. She was there in the front row. We just finished a song when her eyes connected with mine. The melody slipped through my head like this...” Hands flitting lightly over the keys, he told her of meeting and falling in love with her mother.
At the last bridge of the hauntingly, sweet song, the front door squeaked open.
Bouncing on the bench, the child yelled, “Mommy! Come listen! Daddy’s playing your song!”
Contact me at Pinkcookie/fanfiction.net
ReplyDelete200 words
“Follow me!” the receptionist encouraged in a saccharine voice. Imitating her phony smile, I wincingly gave her a phony-bologna smile in return. My tooth had been killing me for days and I finally asked for an emergency appointment. I really hated going to this particular medical office. The elevators played muzak that was perpetually stuck on “our song.” Unfortunately, the “our” was no longer. When my heart failed (literally), Shithead decided he needed a newer model who could keep up with his athletic lifestyle. The doctors had fixed my physical heart problems, but it was forever broken by Shithead’s callousness.
Ms. Phony Smile told me I wouldn’t be seeing my usual dentist since he was on vacation and twittered out of the room.
The dentist came in and my mouth dropped open of its own accord. “Hello Ms. Swan, I’m Dr. Cullen. I understand you’re having pain in one of your molars on the top left?” I vaguely recall saying, “call me Bella,” and hearing things like, “I’ll be very gentle,” and other dental stuff. When he was all done fixing my tooth, he held out his hand, grinned at me and said, “Follow me beautiful Bella!” My heart healed.
Twitter: @hummingbirdFF & @bigblueboat
ReplyDeleteWord count: 199
~~~
The floor slowly comes to life with the bass beat as I increase the volume on the stereo. Dust particles appear to be dancing around the sun-soaked room. The beat starts a burning path from the soles of my feet to my fingertips. The waves flow through my body, each measure enhancing the previous and forcing my limbs to move.
A push on my stomach reminds me I’m not alone. I have little arms and legs moving with me, within me. I place my hand on the spot where a tiny footprint has appeared—my little one already has a love for music.
I close my eyes and let my body flow with the rhythm pulsing through my veins.
A soft tap on my shoulder brings me out of my euphoria. Hands move through the air telling me that lunch is ready.
With a wistful smile, I turn down the stereo, but gentle hands halt my journey to the kitchen. My smile becomes elated as my husband bends down and places a reverent kiss just above my bellybutton. I watch his lips move and feel the vibration of his whispered words of love to our child.
This is pure happiness.
~~~
@Aleeab4u
ReplyDelete198 words
. . . . . .
Fingers glide over ivory keys, stained and slick. He wants to play something with a pleasurable note to mark this latest ending.
Sighing, Edward turns, pinning the man in the corner with a glare.
“You’re not a very good muse, Mr. Anderson. Such lofty ideals as yours should impart a flavor worthy of song.” He cocks his head at his silent audience, sighing in reprove.
He spins back and tries again. This time the sounds he draws forth are too melancholy. This piece is a celebration of future lives saved, after all; a capriccio.
Carlisle would likely say he's over thinking. Sweet, gentle Esme… Well, it’s better not to think of her amidst all this gore.
“Anyway,” he remarks dryly to his silent spectator, “it’s all a bene placito, isn’t it?”
Mr. Anderson doesn’t reply, possibly agreeing that yes, it’s ‘all up to the performer.’
“Or maybe you’re simply too drained to form an opinion?” Edward asks, then laughs at his own crude jest.
He rises from the splattered piano and straightens his still immaculate clothing. As he leaves the formerly homicidal Mr. Anderson cooling in his chair, Edward’s resigned to an existence without melody.
It’s only fitting.
Am I too late?
ReplyDelete@magtwi78
200 words (BOOM!)
---------
I could feel the bass pumping from the large speakers. It reverberated through my body, and I felt every molecule of bone, blood, and muscle move against the one next to it. It was times like this where I felt alive - where I felt free.
My head bobbed in time with the beat through my headphones, and I lined up the next track, letting the beats flow and weave together. It picked up, and the crowd responded with a cheer. I smiled at their exultation.
I scanned the track list on my second screen, but found myself looking up. It was as though someone had called me. It was as though his heart called mine, and mine responded in kind. In the sea of bobbing heads and free-writhing bodies, his was still as he stood, watching me.
I watched back.
He cocked his head to one side, and a slow grin spread across his features. I tucked a blue strand of hair behind my ear.
I smiled back.
We stood, eyes locked, hearts talking. The track started to fade, and I threaded through the next, with him as inspiration.
He stepped toward me.
I waited for him to come.
@tanglingshad0ws
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 199
----
He told me that music was his life.
I didn’t believe him until the night he showed up on my doorstep, bags packed, saying goodbye.
At first, I thought he was joking, but his eyes were bright and happy. He spoke with such enthusiasm that I could only nod along as he told me his plan.
Going to Nashville…big opportunity with an open mic night at a friend of a friend’s bar…his chance to make it big…doing what he’d always dreamed.
He kissed me softly after I said, “You should go for it.”
My words were a whisper, and he couldn’t seem to recognize the despair laced through them.
I gave him a hug then he was gone.
Phone calls were frequent then not so much.
He was busy auditioning, then he was busy recording, then he was busy being an opening act for some random band I’d never heard of.
Texts were easy then they weren’t.
Birthdays forgotten.
Kisses a memory.
I place his CD back in the box I found on my doorstep. My heart skipping as I read the note inside, “My only regret is leaving you.”
For the first time in two years, I cry.
@mariahajile
ReplyDeleteWord count: 155
"Till the End of Time"
“I love you,” Edward cried, gripping Bella’s hand.
“I love you more,” Bella whispered.
She fought to keep her eyes open, to keep breathing just a little while longer, to keep the machines beeping.
She needed more time. Four years of marriage, two years of an engagement, three years as high school sweethearts, and seven years as childhood friends were simply not enough.
They may have had bicycle rides, awkward flirting, hallway kisses, quickies during final exams, and first apartment jitters, but she wanted positive pregnancy tests, a house-warming party, money worries, edward’s big work promotion, fighting teenagers, grey hairs, and grandchildren.
“Sing me our song,” she said, making Edward sob at her final request but also laugh; their inside joke over his terrible singing voice flooded his mind.
But he sang. It was soft yet broken, full of love and pain.
And Edward kept singing long after Bella’s eyes closed for the final time.
Another city, another shitty motel room.
ReplyDeleteThe light in your eyes dims more with every crappy gig.
I don’t know how to make them bright again. Happy.
Music has always been my life.
It used to be what you loved most about me.
My fingers always smudged with graphite from composing.
My spine curved over my piano or the neck of my guitar.
My calloused fingertips ghosting over your porcelain skin.
Your heart has always raced at my touch.
Tonight though, the beat remains steady. Staccato.
No crescendo to be found.
My fingers graze yours and move up your arm, but you twist away.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Don’t say that. Please, baby. Things will get better. We’ll get a record deal, and-”
“No. I can’t waste any more time. God, I’ve wasted so much time.”
“What-”
“I love you, but this just...can’t be my life. Following you around, eating shitty vending machine food every night. I can’t believe I dropped out of college for this. Fuck, I’m so stupid.”
“Bella, please.” A hot tear escapes my eye.
“I’m sorry, Edward. I love you. I’m sorry.”
And you’re gone.
And the music in me goes with you.
Flatline.
@Alesoflyy
ReplyDeleteWord count: 168
He pulls her close, despite her protests,
One hand to her waist, the other to her hand;
One to his shoulder, the other to his hand.
His smile, soft and hopeful;
Her lips pursed, trying not to give into temptation.
“Love me,” he wants.
“I can’t,” she refuses.
He spins her through the silent room full of bodies.
She goes willingly, eyes only on him. Only ever on him.
He knows she hates dancing, she has no rhythm.
She still trusts him, as long as his hand is in hers.
“Kiss me,” he pleads, deep green eyes full of want watching.
She looks away, watching bodies in twos hold each other close.
“Kiss me,” he demands.
Tears form in her eyes. “I can’t.” She breaks.
“I love you.” He does.
“You love her.” It’s her only excuse. One she knows is a lie.
“No. You. Only ever you.”
They follow their feet to the imaginary beat.
They dance until their feet quit and their hearts take the lead.
@CallMePagliacci 186 words
ReplyDeleteThe crowd crushed in, pressing against me on all sides. Jostling. Screaming, grabbing at me. Wanting a piece of my attention, of me.
They didn’t mean to hurt me, I’m sure.
My costume tore.
They just loved me too much. Or maybe not me, but what I made them feel. The places my songs took them.
Needy hands. Loud voices.
I couldn’t breathe. I was alone. I was lost.
Another pair of hands — stronger, surer, warmer, rougher — wrapped around me, pulled me from the scrum.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
I looked up, into his eyes. He held me, curled into a ball, close to his chest. I didn’t look away until it was quiet around me again. Still.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” He was panting, still high on adrenaline. He slid, me in his arms, his back against the wall, until he was sitting.
“Because, this...” I took his hand from under my knees and put it over my heart. “That’s music, there.”
He leaned down, his forehead touching mine. He nodded.
We sat, holding hands in the dark.