Dance to the tune.

The life gets accustomed to a kind of calm when you are alone. And, everything around is just in place. No mess, no disorder, no clink-clank to get you out of your hibernation. This hibernation then leads to lethargy and finally a puddle of emotional upheaval. It’s a paradox really. And, she was the epitome. 

The life in city would be too active one would think, yet she managed to make an island of peace for herself. More like, one was created for her. She was a lonesome soul. Not too talkative, not too big of a sharer, so, it was assumed she would like the peace. Away from all hustle-bustle. Her fiancé, now husband, found for themselves that palace of solace. No one asked her for her opinion. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise. But, too calming peace was now questioning every motivation of her fiancé.       

       

She had not gone out for a long time. Keeping aside those few neighborhood meets, much-needed sojourns to the nearest Gofers, she pretty much confined herself. She tried to talk with the few people around, but the small subset, and diminishing number of interactions made her feel more awkward than she ever was. She felt comfortable till she stuck to her 850 square feet. 

Though it was another irony that the only time she would be comfortable in talking to would be around Aisha, her next-door neighbor. Oh she loved to see how Aisha would just talk to everyone around her, turn everyone into chatterbox with her mere "Hello". She always wondered about the change she felt in her when she was around. She was happy, happy to share. "Why not in my own skin?", she always questioned herself.

It was a different Saturday today. She was going out. With her husband. For lunch. Thanks to the broken plumbing in the house and the constant whirring of the electric saw in Aisha’s house. The cacophony was creating undulating waves in their still life. She paired her ravishing red Perkins with those Louboutins. She didn’t even remember last time they had gone out and neither did she want to.

The lunch was silent. No melody to complete the experience. It was of course peaceful. The drinks helped a little. And then a lot. The husband kept broaching some political day-to-days. She nodded along and swilled down drinks as they came. His husband didn’t notice and no one was counting.

Nothing changed in the 3 hours they went out. The house looked same. She wished if colors had livened up, may be the tapestries would let the sunlight through. But, she instantly recoiled from the grim. She didn’t care. Much because of the whimsy of the night and those tall glasses. She felt serotonin, dopamine flowing through her head. Though she was unsure what they were or what they meant. The television programmes are the storehouse of half-baked information.

But, one thing sure had changed. Amid her alcohol-addled stupor, the whirring of the saw felt like a disruption to the rhythmic drips of the leaky faucet. It yielded resonance of some kind she sure liked. She started tapping her feet to it involuntarily, move her slender waist. Slowly, her neck was getting into the flow. She wondered if the last trace of the raspiness were gone. That way, she could even afford herself an ear-splitting leitmotif.

Maybe the posterity builds something like that with rhythm, melody, timbre and call it ‘music’. The word has a sonorous ring to it.  

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Prompt1: “What if music didn’t exist?”

Prompt2: Gregarious(character trait) without using the word.