Writing Prompt: The music was light and airy.

Morning all, another day and another prompt. Let’s dive in shall we? Timers set for fifteen minutes.

I have to say this is not where I thought this would go. I like it, but it isn’t what I was expecting. Which is kind of fun.

Wednesday, June 17^th: The music was light and airy.

The music was light and airy.  It danced through the air as though made of spun sugar and childhood dreams.  He smiled as it wafted past. He was tired and dancing wasn’t his thing, but listening to hit he almost wished he had someone to dance with. 

‘Someone who didn’t mind me stepping on their toes,” he thought.  He shook his head and sent a silent apology skyward to Farrah Watson, wherever she may be.  She was the daughter of his mother’s friend Vera and had been dragooned into being his dance partner when his mother still had societal aspirations for him. 

He trod poor Farrah’s feet black and blue but she as a good sport about the whole thing. He hoped she was doing well.

John left the window open, content to let the music ripple in while he worked.  It was a buoy to his spirits and at the moment they could use any help they could get.  He looked over to his whiteboard.  It filled the space where a normal person might have put a sofa and a coffee table.  He lived alone and his visitor list was nonexistent.  He needed only the reading chair with it’s accompanying side table and lamp to suit his needs. 

He needed less space for people to sit and more for himself to work. 

‘Or not work, as the case may be,’ he thought looking at his notations.  He had his original equation on the board but there were so many crossed out bits, reformulated sections and alterations, each level done in a different color that the original was long buried. 

This formula was proving far more problematic than he anticipated.  He absently reached for his coffee, winced at the cold cup and set it down. 

“A fresh start,” he said.  He looked at the cup.  “For me and the cup.”

He picked up the cup again and walked it to the sink.  He rinsed it out and then started a fresh pot brewing. The frothy music floated in and made his steps light as he moved to the board.  He knew all the equations and formulae on it so he picked up his eraser and wiped it clean.

“We start again, leaving out what we already know won’t work,” he picked up the black marker he always used for his starting level.  His second tier additions were blue, his third green and finally if he reached a fourth alteration he reached for the red pen.  His earlier work looked as though it was bleeding. 

It was a relief to simply see the black marks dance across the whiteboard.  “Better than I ever did with Farrah,” he told himself.

He left specific gaps in his calculations, knowing that what he had wasn’t working and loath to set himself up for the destination of the red pen again.  He put his known constants on the board and stepped back.  The gaps were obvious but there was a relief at seeing space.  Space he could fill, work with.  The crowding before was making him more angst-y than he thought.

The fresh pot of coffee was brewed so he poured himself a cup, doctored it and listed to the music while he stared at the board, running through his options.  With the clutter cleared it wasn’t long before a new thought danced across his mind.