She keeps songs locked away in boxes like secrets. She will take them out like postcards to help her remember the feeling of a different time, a different person by her side. She likes the one that makes her eyes close to see the lights. She smiles at the one that makes her stand up on tiptoes, the one that helps her forget she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.
The tune will carry her.
Like it did the times when voices broke like a heart. When instruments’ strings would snap and hurt.