Fingerprints
A hiss and crackle spilled from the speakers after the needle but before the first sonic burst.
She had left the list in his inbox with a wink and no explanation — a cocktail of songs that spanned decades and moods. Stella Artois sweated on the coaster beside him as he hit play.
“Shout It Out Loud” jolted the room to life like neon, KISS pulling him out of his chair and into a dance with a ghost. He spun in his socks on the wood floor, laughing at himself, the volume too loud.
When “If I Needed Someone” followed, something in him softened. He saw her face — the one she made when she was pretending not to watch him, chin tucked slightly, one brow raised like she knew exactly what he'd do next.
By “People of the South Wind,” he was humming along, imagining her barefoot in his kitchen, stirring something she'd pretend was a recipe, though she always cooked by instinct.
He didn't see the wave coming.
It wasn’t until “I Have the Touch” that it broke — a rush of sensation, not memory, but presence. Like she was in the room. Not past, not imagined, but right there, a smile and energy filling the space.
“I need contact and I'm wanting touch…”
The lyric landed.
He put down his drink. His fingers trembled. His skin buzzed with echo and the electricity of a biomechanic being when the synapses light up and endorphins flood neuroreceptors.
A flash — moments from the past of levity and seriousness. The way she’d say his name differently when she meant it.
He sat back, eyes closed, the music pulling his breath ragged. She had arranged this on purpose. Not a tease. Awakening.
To remind.
Of the power of music and message to move the mind and soul like a speaker moved air. Of the body that could still respond to a single song like it was a summoning.
When “Private Investigations” came on, he stayed perfectly still. The world shrank to the space between notes and pulsebeats.
The wind-down was artistically designed to deliver honest acceptance to a relaxed mind and body. Tomorrow could wait.
He had tonight. And her fingerprints all over it.
#journal #confession #osxs #memoir
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