I’m in one of these cozy lounges. It has a warm ambiance to it with deep brown wooden interior. It also has these deep set leather couches that seem to drown you in pillowy comfort. They grab you and hug you. There are not too many people around. It looks like a slow morning. I think my drink is on the way. I want to have a cappuccino. With lots of sugar and a warm pastry. It’s one of those mornings.
The music playing is soft and engulfing. It’s a duet. A guy and a girl. Just like it should be. The voices have been coated in honey and chocolate. I’m not much of a sweet tooth but I’d take a bite off them. The waiter comes. He seems aloof with the music too like he is floating. He is nodding his head slightly to the instrumentals. Like the words being spoken resonate with him. Like they are taking him back. Back to a place where he is not waiting tables. To a place where his sweetheart is in his arms. A sunny day. A portable speaker playing beautiful music. And butterflies lazily swimming through the warm air. She smells like sunlight. He like a calm storm. Maybe they kiss. Maybe they don’t.
He sets the white cup in front of me. And leaves. Back into his world. The cup in my hand feels warm, like the song playing. My first sip sends a slight shiver down my spine. Chasing the cold away’ my mum would say. It’s also sweet. Sweeter on some parts of the tongue. Less sweet on others. But sweet nonetheless. The weird thing is that the cappuccino tastes like the voices on the song. It is rich too. And creamy; like the lyrics. It’s good music in a cup. Good music on my tongue.
A lady walking so elegantly it feels like she’s gliding slides into my booth. She has in her hands around a mug. Her face is exactly what this song is making me feel. Beautiful. She hugs the mug and holds it close to her face. Smiles. Coyly blinks. Doesn’t say a word. It’s like the music drew us together. The lyrics are speaking on our behalf. The melody an alien language between two strangers that seem to somehow understand it.
“Where words fail, music speaks”
And then the song fades away. And I’m back in my office. Sturdy chair. Excel spreadsheet with numbers and empty cells staring back at me. The biting cold numbing my fingertips. A sound cloud tab open in the background. A blinking phone. I’m out of my reverie. That’s what a good song does to you. Transcends you from reality into its reality.
I miss the warm lounge. The cozy couch. The lady that did not say anything. The waiter that seemed was in another world. The hot cuppa and the warm pastry. So I replay. The song. And she’s there. This time a tad bit closer. Chemistry.
Have a listen. You’ll love it.