February 10, 2010

They rehearsed in a spare studio, her feet bare against the hardwood, his head tilted toward the neck of his guitar. He never made eye contact when they played, but they had learned to find each other in the rhythm, dipping in and out of each other’s notes like birds catching currents of wind.

At a break, he caught her hand as she passed by, but still couldn’t meet her gaze. When they returned to playing, her voice cracked at the lyrics “love” and “want.” Later, the songs beat their wings against the windowpanes, desperate to be released.

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