Vibrations

Marina kept playing the same six chords on the piano. She enjoyed the mellow harmonies and waited for words to accompany the melody developing in her head. It was late evening bordering on night and she would stop occasionally to sip from her now cool mug of peppermint tea or to rub her cold hands on her stubbly knees. Her feet were cold too, but the backs of her thighs were warm and her skin clung to the finished wood beneath them. She had yet to change out of last night's pajama shorts.

In the morning she would be an adult. She would pay her bills and schedule a dentist appointment. She would conquer the mountain of laundry that had swallowed her hamper and was rapidly taking over her bedroom floor. She would even fold it all. She would cook a couple meals that she could eat for lunch and dinner during the week.

For now, Marina just wanted to feel vibrations in her chest. Words were slipping with pencil whispers into the small notebook she kept beside her on the piano bench. For the first time in awhile she felt like a person. Her art emboldened her.