The invisible song

The Invisible Song

Yolanna lies awake.

It is the same sound.

Gentle. Steady.

And calm.

The sound of an invisible piano seeps through the wall of her bedroom, spilling into the silent dimness. It starts when she turns her light off, and has not gone quiet as the night droned on.

Yolanna turns, now staring at the wall. Her finger thrums on the bedframe: tock, tock, tock – to the beat of the no-name song. Her eyes are heavy. And there’s a kink in her neck.

She should sleep.

But the invisible sound is there. 

And Yolanna keeps her eyes open.

~o~

Boxes sprawl on top of the wooden floor, some opened, some tightly sealed. The house is barren, white walls and white blinds. The windows are closed, covered in a thin layer of dust. It smells like cardboard and abandonment.  

“Achoo!” – She sneezes. And grimaces. – “Ugh.”

“Bless you” – She says, just so that the studio apartment feels less empty. The front door is closed, and the sky is grey outside the window.

~o~

There is one (1) painting on the wall. She doesn’t put it there: it is there when she arrives.

Rivulets of colors melting on canvas. It blurs here and there, flowing down upon the black earth under a blanket of grey.

Everything here is covered in dust.

A girl – a black silhouette – stands under her umbrella.

She wishes the rain were colorful.  

~o~

It is raining.

She comes from the desert. Rain doesn’t fall in September.

From the window on her 16^th floor, Yolanna sees. The sky is the ever-greying color, but something was changing. The first droplet hit the window, right next to her face, and splashes into tiny fractures. Another one, and another. Rains chasing rains, and the beads race each other down the glass, disappearing into the black metal frame.

People look grey when it doesn’t rain. Grey vests, grey skirts. Greying hair. Days by days, they move about their business, a blur of colorless.

Pop!

A blue umbrella.

Red.

Orange.

Yellow.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

People take out their umbrellas or hide under their backpacks.

Some put on their raincoats and splash away.

Shops roll out their awnings.

Yolanna smiles as she sees a small pink umbrella with 2 bunnies on top. They sway left and right, as their owner weaves through the street, bopping around as if they are alive.

In the rain, a rainbow emerges the grey. Blurry and hasty, but a rainbow nonetheless.

She guesses the rain can be colorful.

~o~

The apartment smells like sugar and melted butter. White specs of flour decorates the counter and pink and purple bowls strewed in front of her. 

There is a smudge on Yolanna’s face, right above her left eyebrow. She throws some flour on the countertop, and sneezes when it puffs into her mouth.

“Achoo!” – She wrinkled her nose. – “Rude.” – And throw a wad of cookie dough on it.

The wooden rolling pin is a good weight on her hand. Yolanna rolls up her sleeves – they are already covered in flour, and maybe a bit of eggs – and sets to work. 

She enjoys eating the chocolate chip cookies – the soft, chewy dough melting with the dark chocolate inside her mouth.

“Thank you.” – She said, biting another cookie.  

~o~

Yolanna lies awake.

She has known the song by heart.

She knows when it is slow and quiet, whispering to the world. She knows when it’s fast and harsh, as the artist slams their frustration onto the keys.

Behind the wall, there is a living, breathing human. A human who is alive, who has dreams, and hopes, and expectations. They are awake and they have a piano. And days after days, they have a routine: to play over and over again a no-name song. Sitting by and pouring their pain into the notes.

Who are they?

Who are they?

The invisible sound is still there.

And she decides to sleep.

~2018