He closed his eyes, and the music did what it always did: it opened a door.
"I had to find the melody," Elnur replied, reaching out. In the dream, his hands didn't shake. In the dream, the illness that had taken her voice, then her breath, hadn't happened yet. He closed his eyes, and the music did
Leyla smiled, a sad, sweet expression that matched the final note of the composition. "I never go, Elnur. I’m just waiting for the next time you press play." The tape clicked off. In the dream, the illness that had taken
Elnur sat in the sudden, deafening quiet of the studio. The grief was there, as heavy as ever, but so was the lingering warmth of her hand. He reached out, his finger trembling over the 'Rewind' button. He wasn't ready to wake up just yet. I’m just waiting for the next time you press play