day 74. V.

She took a last sip from her cup, and realized how the coffee had gone cold already.
There she was, thinking again.
A year ago, she was there too, listening to that sole list of songs she listened to for a year — she knew every single sound those songs made and she laughed at how her heart had good memory for such stuff — songs, stories, quotes — many of them sad, most of them melancholic.
Today, all she did was wonder how he was.
She marveled at how uncanny he came and left — either way she was swept off her feet. Enigmatic she calls it, and her heart never ceased to remember.
Of course she wished he’d come back. Though he never really promised he would. All she knew was how he ought to find himself first, and she’d be really happy if he did.
Then it rained. She let out an amused laugh again, stood up and fetched her things.
Playing in the background was that same old list she played a year ago.
She thought she’d heard all the music those songs made already and knew each of them by heart.
But she might have been mistaken.
For apparently now, it had so unceremoniously dawned on her how nothing really ever sounds the same anymore, especially in the rain.

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