We were sitting at a coffee shop. I took a sip of my cappucino and carefully placed it on the table. I wrapped both my hands on the coffee as the steam slowly billowed in the air like a spirit. I imagined a singing co-worker. "A singer..." I said. "What do you sing?"
She traced the tip of the coffee mug with her fingertips. "All sorts," she said, staring at her mug. "I sing a variety of genres."
"Can you tell me some?"
She stopped tracing the tip midway, and stared at me. "What kind of music do you like to listen to?"
I paused. Then smiled. Then quickly looked down, and back up in her eyes. I blushed, but I couldn't really tell. "Well... I like to listen to smooth jazz."
"Oh, come on!" she blurted. "Nobody could sing that! We're getting off topic here!"
"Right," I said.
"So? What kind of music do you like to listen to, besides smooth jazz?"
I thought about this for a while. In fact I didn't really listen to music all that much. The last time I listened to music was when I was at a pharmacy buying essentials. After much thought, I came up with an answer. "I like Tony Bennett."
"Tony Bennett?"
"Any problem?" I said. I think it was him that I heard at the pharmacy.
"No..." she said. "Just so random." She took a sip of her coffee, then sighed without opening her mouth, settling in the warmth that just entered her body. "Any others besides smooth jazz and Tony Bennett?"
"Give me a break!"
"Tell me," she said. It seemed like she was playing with me. "it's important."
"It's not like you're going to sing for me my favorite genre or artist right?" I was curious.
She stared at her mug. "I guess I won't anymore."
I made sure to choose the right words. "No, please sing for me. I love it when people sing. Whenever anyone sings for me, doesn't matter if it's sung by a boy or a girl, it always soothes my heart. I don't have a legitimate reason why, but that's how it just feels to me."
"Then how come you won't tell me your favorite type of music?"
"It's because I only like listening to people I know," I said. "Listening to people I don't know sing is like listening to a stranger sing. If I know that person, I can connect more with that person, or understand him. It's just natural for me. That's why I don't listen to a lot of music that are on the charts. I mostly listen to the songs my friends sing."
She sat there silently.
"To me, you aren't a stranger anymore," I continued. "Although this is the first time we've met, I feel that you told me enough about you."
"That I'm a singer?"
"Yep."
I could tell that she was gripping her mug tightly. We didn't say a word. She took her time, almost to the point where I would've forgotten what I said. Suddenly, she recrossed her legs and finally seemed settled. "You want me to sing to you any song then?"
"Yes."
"Here? In this coffee shop?"
"Uh-huh"
She nodded a few times. "Okay."
Surrounding us was the sound of coffee blenders and other office workers talking among themselves. She took a sip of her coffee and gently placed it down. She swept her hair back from her eyes with her fingertips and sat there innocent, silent, like a balloon that freely floated in the air. She took a breath and began to sing to her heart's content.
The purity of her voice came so freely that it muted the background noise. For a minute I couldn't hear anything but her beautiful voice. I couldn't pay attention to which genre she was singing. I couldn't tell which song. Her voice echoed in my mind, and blocked out all the excess noise. I felt like I was in a dream. I sat there, listening to her beauty.
to be continued...
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