Got our head in the clouds.

Her instrument is dusty and out of tune but she plays so well, I barely notice. I don't know much about music, only what sounds good to me, and, in time, I loved her song.

She plays.

Never had I heard anything like it. Not clear but so bright. Not soft but proud. It's not so much loud as it is determined. Did I hear some last notes? Perhaps, she'll never get round to finishing.

She plays.

Songs have to end sometime.

She plays.

She forgets all but the chorus and is safely trapped in the repetitive loop of her own making.

She plays
but once we've heard it enough, we get uneasy.

It hurts our eyes, rings in our ears and we brush away what once held charm. Relentless, tiresome. Both feet on the ground.

She plays
but now to an audience of one.

I'm choking on smoke.

With respect, I light a single candle and walk away.

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