Smooth jazz
Just like a song, he can start it and end it at anytime.
She likes to sit in their living room listening to him playing on the piano, sometimes on his guitar. She likes to think that she can read his mood depending on the songs he plays, but they never really have a pattern. One she has still not managed to figure out.
But lately she has started to wonder where this is going. She wants so many things that he's probably not willing to give her. A family. She wants a child of her own, she wants that feeling in the pit of her stomach to disappear- soon it is too late.
But she is too afraid to bring it up, afraid that he will leave her, and she will have no one. Thirty-nine, and all alone in the world.
Their relationship is like a song; he can start it and end it at anytime, one slip, one finger that didn't land where he planned it to, the music will stop abruptly, and he starts a different song.
Written for Filip Fredriksson who died a year ago on the date. Review please.