Your mellifluous voice | Record

via Daily Prompt: Record

The conversations that they had were always beautiful and as romantic as they could get.

He would return from work exasperated, the only solace he could get was the sweet musical voice from his beloved’s mouth. He loved the way she would greet him as he entered.

“And there is my sweet heart again” in an excited voice she would call out. “How was your day darling” the genuineness in her voice was cent percent every day.

“Survived today, will have to work till tomorrow” he would reply as both of them would chuckle with laughter.

“Have a cup of coffee and sit and enjoy the evening as I play my flute”

“Sure dear” he would wait for the music piece to begin.

“You know what; I have learnt a new song today when you were at the office”

“Oh really, Play it for me, I am waiting to hear it!”

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She would then start the music piece, first playing the scale of it. Observing her rose like lips touching the bamboo flute he would sip his first bit of coffee. After going up and down the scale a couple of times, she would smile at him. That smile dissolved half of the heaviness of his mental stress.

A few seconds later she would be lost in hitting the right notes, each and every note would be played to perfection, not even a fraction of a note either side of being a minor or major. Those notes played with the motive of relaxing him, would directly touch his heart. Within a minute, he would be swaying to the rhythm of the song deeply engrossed in it. Her expression of love towards him through music was a special character that only she had.

Like always, she would walk up to him and tap him on his shoulder to bring him out of the trance he had gone into. Bringing her lips onto his forehead, she would give a gentle peck. He would slowly draw her closer, make her sit on his lap and they would make love. Whatever would happen in the day at his workplace, he wouldn’t give a miss to the musical evenings that they would have together.

She would often ask “You don’t get bored of me playing the flute every day?”

“When I can sit and do the same job on a daily basis at my desk, why would I get bored with something that gives me happiness. Firstly the music is so very soothing, above it, it is you who is creating that music. Shouldn’t I be proud and happy for that sake?”

She would feel overwhelmed at that point and hug him tightly as he would make room for their cuddly smooch. “The taste of your coffee is in my mouth” and both of them would burst out laughing. The conversation would come to an abrupt end there.

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He would be left with teary eyes and the coffee in his mug would have turned cold. Walking a few steps to the gramophone, he would stop the vinyl record from rotating, wipe the record and neatly place it in the holder that read “the one where you played the flute”. This same sequence of events took place for more than a decade after she had succumbed to a terminal illness. As her end was nearing, he recorded their conversations on a daily basis. However, this relaxing piece of music was the closest he felt to her since her heavenly departure.

 

 

 

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