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31_days2011-01-16 06:48 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2011-01-16 06:48 pm
[Jan. 16] [Original] For a Song
Title: For a Song
Day/Theme: Jan. 16, 2011 "Love songs last longer than lovers ever do"
Series: Original (a random stand-alone piece)
Character/Pairing: Linnea & an admirer
Rating: PG-13
"Ah, young lady, don't shed a tear. You know it couldn't have worked out anyway," the man caressed her reddened cheek as he rose from the bed to gather the last of his scattered belongings. His pocket watch and briefcase were on the floor, just inside the door. His fedora was on the side table. He went about retrieving them calmly, quietly.
The radio was still playing, Linnea realized. She had stopped noticing it as passion wrapped its burning arms around her, but now the thrum of music crept back into her ears. One tune finished. Another song began. And now Linnea was hearing herself sing for the hundredth time. This was her song. The beginning of her career. The very thing that had brought this man to her. It was her music, he had been seeking, he said- it was the beauty of her voice, the charm she exuded speaking to the radio announcer that had filled him with the desire to meet her.
She had found him quite a charming fellow upon their first conversation. He was facile in his praise of her song- both the lyrics and the music. He was, he said, a musician himself. In Linnea's eyes, he appeared a little old. Too old to be the sort of man who usually caught her attention. But older might mean wiser, after all. Older meant experienced.
He was humming now. Humming along with her voice on the radio. It was too be expected. Even if he didn't care a mite for her a moment longer than this, it didn't mean he didn't like her song. It didn't mean he wouldn't think of this encounter every time he heard it play on the radio.
"Linnea," he breathed, nearly whispered, decked out again in his best attire, briefcase in hand, "I'm going."
And he did. He went. He left her there, to listen to herself sing. To wonder. She would think again and again of this older man.
Day/Theme: Jan. 16, 2011 "Love songs last longer than lovers ever do"
Series: Original (a random stand-alone piece)
Character/Pairing: Linnea & an admirer
Rating: PG-13
"Ah, young lady, don't shed a tear. You know it couldn't have worked out anyway," the man caressed her reddened cheek as he rose from the bed to gather the last of his scattered belongings. His pocket watch and briefcase were on the floor, just inside the door. His fedora was on the side table. He went about retrieving them calmly, quietly.
The radio was still playing, Linnea realized. She had stopped noticing it as passion wrapped its burning arms around her, but now the thrum of music crept back into her ears. One tune finished. Another song began. And now Linnea was hearing herself sing for the hundredth time. This was her song. The beginning of her career. The very thing that had brought this man to her. It was her music, he had been seeking, he said- it was the beauty of her voice, the charm she exuded speaking to the radio announcer that had filled him with the desire to meet her.
She had found him quite a charming fellow upon their first conversation. He was facile in his praise of her song- both the lyrics and the music. He was, he said, a musician himself. In Linnea's eyes, he appeared a little old. Too old to be the sort of man who usually caught her attention. But older might mean wiser, after all. Older meant experienced.
He was humming now. Humming along with her voice on the radio. It was too be expected. Even if he didn't care a mite for her a moment longer than this, it didn't mean he didn't like her song. It didn't mean he wouldn't think of this encounter every time he heard it play on the radio.
"Linnea," he breathed, nearly whispered, decked out again in his best attire, briefcase in hand, "I'm going."
And he did. He went. He left her there, to listen to herself sing. To wonder. She would think again and again of this older man.