The green glow skimmed across her face like the shadow of a puffy cloud sweeping over an undulating field. She silently hummed to herself the melody of The Song to the beat of the rhythmic whirring and clicking of the copier.
Lately, she had been thinking often of that period in her life, and The Song brought her back to that space and time as if the events had unfolded yesterday. The power of music effortlessly pierced the reservoir hidden deep within her memory, and the liberated emotions washed over her like the waves shaping the contours of a sandy beach, un-muted by the passage of time. The well-worn feelings comforted her.
She glanced up as he walked into the room and placed a sheaf of papers in the facsimile machine. He looked vaguely familiar, and she recalled that they had met before. But she had not cared to remember his name. As he punched the keys on the machine to dial a number, he began to softly sing the chorus of The Song. The same one that was playing in her head on an infinite loop. And over and over again on her iPod. She looked at him again, this time with a swirling mix of surprise and curiosity. Her eyes unblinking.
He stopped singing when he looked up from the fax machine and noticed her stare. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly as his cheeks reddened. “That song has been stuck in my mind all day. It’s called . . .”
“I’m familiar . . .” she replied softly, interrupting him in mid-sentence.
He nodded, then started to say something, but suddenly decided not to. Instead, he pursed his lips and grabbed his documents from the fax machine. Her confused gaze followed him as he briskly left the room.