Shape of My Heart
It was two in the morning before Joseph realized it, having spent the hours after dinner typing fervently away on the ancient typewriter setup in the sunroom off the back of the house. He had only vaguely tracked the darkening of the sky outside the glass walls, lulled into a trance by the lapping waves not too far beyond. When he felt his eyes starting to droop closed, the proximity of the keys growing ever closer to his face, he finally stretched and checked the clock, only mildly surprised by how late it was. It felt good to be so inspired, something he hadn't felt in years. Even if what he'd just labored over was only debatable in its importance, it was helping to put him back on the right track for what his eventual job would be.
He shuffled into the kitchen, letting loose a wide yawn as he poured himself a glass of water. That was when he heart it, the soft strains of a melody being picked out on a guitar, wafting through the house from the front porch. Setting the glass on the counter, he walked down the hall to the front door, leaning in the frame to listen. From where he was, he couldn't see her, but he could sense her on the other side of the wall, keeping time with the gentle creak of the porch swing. Her voice floated airily above the guitar as she sang softly to herself, and she cherished the sound, as foolish as he knew it was to do so.
"I know that spades are the swords of a soldier... I know that clubs are weapons of war..."
He closed his eyes, pretending that she was singing for him, letting himself feel for just a moment a flutter he tried to ignore.
"I know that diamonds mean money for this art..."
Her voice had a twinge of untrained coarseness to it, but that's what Joseph had come to love so deeply. For all her perfection, she chose imperfection whenever possible. Presumptively - or stupidly, he went back and forth, depending on on his mood - he had assumed it was a trait that might extend to her judgment as well. Three years later, he hadn't quite given up, but was reluctantly starting to accept the dismal truth.
"But that's not the shape of my heart."
A sad sigh escaped him as he listened to the last notes trail off into the night, the soft rush of waves to shore replacing the music. He pushed himself away from the doorway to head upstairs to bed, taking one last look at her through the screen door. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, almost white in the moonlight, a charmed smile gently raising the left corner of her mouth. She didn't look up, but she didn't have to. All she had to do was ask.
"Would you like to hear another one?"
He shuffled into the kitchen, letting loose a wide yawn as he poured himself a glass of water. That was when he heart it, the soft strains of a melody being picked out on a guitar, wafting through the house from the front porch. Setting the glass on the counter, he walked down the hall to the front door, leaning in the frame to listen. From where he was, he couldn't see her, but he could sense her on the other side of the wall, keeping time with the gentle creak of the porch swing. Her voice floated airily above the guitar as she sang softly to herself, and she cherished the sound, as foolish as he knew it was to do so.
"I know that spades are the swords of a soldier... I know that clubs are weapons of war..."
He closed his eyes, pretending that she was singing for him, letting himself feel for just a moment a flutter he tried to ignore.
"I know that diamonds mean money for this art..."
Her voice had a twinge of untrained coarseness to it, but that's what Joseph had come to love so deeply. For all her perfection, she chose imperfection whenever possible. Presumptively - or stupidly, he went back and forth, depending on on his mood - he had assumed it was a trait that might extend to her judgment as well. Three years later, he hadn't quite given up, but was reluctantly starting to accept the dismal truth.
"But that's not the shape of my heart."
A sad sigh escaped him as he listened to the last notes trail off into the night, the soft rush of waves to shore replacing the music. He pushed himself away from the doorway to head upstairs to bed, taking one last look at her through the screen door. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, almost white in the moonlight, a charmed smile gently raising the left corner of her mouth. She didn't look up, but she didn't have to. All she had to do was ask.
"Would you like to hear another one?"