The waves were crashing at her feet. She could feel them. His voice was whispering her name. Her giggles were carefree and happy. Then suddenly the music player stopped. She opened her eyes. Sitting frozen at her spot, on her bed in the cold, dark room. Alone. She wiped away a coming tear. The lonely night was her reality.
He always had the habit of recording voices and sounds. Sounds of everything from the wind to the ves. And their conversation. That day was one of his recording sprees. Their anniversary by the sea. She was annoyed as usual. He was recording their conversations. Little did she know, his voice recordings would be the only thing left to take her through her lonely nights.
Simple hobbies and habits, everlasting effects of those. We never know what can turn precious in just a fraction of a second. Keep those weird habits intact.
© Suranya
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