Resonance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


His hands stumbled through the introduction; it felt as if language was slipping from his fingers with every thought he signed. But everyone had smiled as his words filtered through his best friend, his shortcomings smoothed through translation. He hadn’t shared anything extra; he felt bad about that. She deserved more than this.

 

Only three people engaged with him after the service, friends who always understood him firsthand. They expressed such physical pain with their bodies, he breathed in the genuinity. The numbness he had been feeling since she died continued to reach across his chest, aching and pulling him inwards.

 

As he stepped off of the train, sunlight flowed in through the station windows in stripes. The world needed to continue and he felt like he was being dragged behind it. When he set out towards the door, he nearly ran her over. The woman didn’t flinch. Her veiled face came to his chest but she stood firmly where she was, an unfamiliar spirit in white contrasting a day populated with black clad mourning.

 

She took his hands in hers and planted in them a small bell. He shook his head. He didn’t need that; it wouldn’t do him any good. But as she softly rang the bell for him, he felt the light from the windows sharp on his skin, pulling his shadow out with it. It was the first sound he’d heard clearly since he was a child and it echoed in his mind. His eyes widened. He felt his hands move on their own to grasp the golden treasure. He felt her smile through the veil.

 

He rang it twice before the sound changed. The third ring was white and filled his vision. He felt the stranger grasp his hands again and wasn’t sure where the bell had gone. 

 

The room is flooded in the last light of the day. He’s on the floor in front of the cello. Sunshine holds it to her chest and she smiles down at him, eyes glinting gold flakes the way they did the day he gave her that name. Sunshine; his golden light. He got so lost in those eyes, he’d often forget to watch her sign. She always giggled as she repeated her monologues back to him, trying not to leave anything out. She unfolds her arms now, bringing the bow around. He places his hands on the instrument and stares up at her, determined not to miss a second. She feathers her way into the piece, the vibrations beginning small before she slows and the music swells into his hands. He feels his eyes flutter closed

 

and when they open he’s back at the station, hands still buzzing. The woman in white is gone, the bell is in his pocket. On later days, weeks, months and years when he reaches for it again, the vibrations flood back, he lets the music resonate through his fingertips.

 


Submitted: April 23, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Aiden R.. All rights reserved.

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