I’m washing the dishes when I hear it.
Blasting from the antique speakers of our desktop (they still have those?) computer is the song. Our song.
I drop the plate I’m rinsing and walk over to the computer room. My sister is watching the music video, dancing by herself in the dim glow of the screen. She sees me and smiles, unashamed. “I love this song!” she says. “It’s so…sad. And mournful. Do you like my interpretive dancing?”
Inside, my heart is throbbing. Because I just realize that what she said is true. It is sad and mournful. Could that have been a sort of premonition for us?
It was the song that really brought us together. We had just met and really, you don’t talk to people a second time unless there’s something that draws you two together. It was this song. We’d both heard it, and I just happened to mention it. “You like their music?” he asked.
“Of course! I’ve listened to all their albums!” And thus I was guaranteed a second chance to talk with him later.
It’s on repeat. My sister plays it over and over again. I’m back at washing the dishes, but every time it starts all over again I cringe. I used to always turn up the volume when the song came on the radio. Our song. It was a secret that nobody but us knew. If only my sister knew what that song meant to me. Then maybe she wouldn’t play it over and over again. But then again, maybe it’s time for me to move on. When I’m truly moved on, that song will mean nothing but an old hit on the radio.