No words.A Story by zaneyAny compatibility between the two was imagined. His sensibility reflected the tastes of the time, the style, the mode – he only showed a shadow of a question of why, and only when he thought no one was looking. Hers was better hidden in glances; any acknowledgement of particularity or vulnerability was done with eyes closed.
Really, the only reconciliation was the music.
Music, which ironically reached between the two and bonded them, tied a neat bow between them with birthday ribbon and twine. This commonality shouldn’t have made sense, but it was the trick of music – the trick of all art. For one, it was recollection, and for the other, curiosity.
CDs, and text messages. A grotesque parody of communication, diluted by static and time. Groveling…almost groveling.
With time and the horrible contrast between anxiety attacks and the subsequent ennui, it became apparent. Any compatibility between the two had been imagined. © 2009 zaneyAuthor's Note
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