Do you like Music?

Life is all sorts of continuous circles.

"Do you like music?"

He nods his head. The coffee shop is full and stuffy because the snow outside is falling so thick no one can see further than their outstretched hands. It'd come in so fast there were already a few reported accidents. The TV set has the weather woman motioning to a great blue and red mass working on repeat over the north eastern coast. We've been sitting at the round table top long before the back of the line squished against the front doors.

I lean over the coco mug in my hands. The table wobbles.

"Think of it this way." My braid falls over my shoulder. Pesky short thing won't stay put.

"The entire world is moving to one beat. Every breath of life someone takes is a note contributing to that rhythm."

"So?" He sips from the mug. Black coffee, almost the same shade as his skin but it makes those blue buttons for eyes seem so bright.

"So?" The chair rocks when I lean back.

"The point is whether you believe it or not you're dancing to that rhythm. Just because you can't hear it doesn't make it not there." I'm leaned over my mug again. "I live my life hearing that rhythm and dancing to it openly. To most people it may seem erratic, clumsy, a little naive, but deep down in their souls they know I'm lead by something their physical senses can't perceive." He's looking at me like I'm crazy. It's probably best I don't mention the institute.

"It's that same beat that guided me to give you my number and the same beat that tells me I won't date you or sleep with you but we'll share a cup of coffee and try to understand the music the other dances to."

"That still doesn't answer my question." He says.

A few people taking up the easy chairs by the full length windows are trying to quiet the coffee shop as the weather station flashes pictures of downed trees and snapped power lines. I watch him over the rim of my cup and take a deep drink of the coco. He says, "I asked if you want to go some place less crowded… never mind." He gets up and leaves a ten on the table.

It lean back, look around, and see a lone stranger sat at a corner table with a lab top open and enough muscle on his arms the shirt looks like it'll split. I take the seat beside him.

"Do you like music?" He looks up.

Author's Note

Just a little something I was thinking about and wanted to have fun putting a serious spiritual philosophy of mine into a bit of dialog. Please review and help me improve. :)

Reviews

[Aaron Browder]

I love it. The dialog is smart and intuitive and weaves into the narration gracefully. You're a natural. I'm sorry I can't think of anything critical to say, but I will read your book and maybe I can be more helpful there.