At Last

At Last by Josiah Crocker

A t last. Her voice was like purple satin as it sang softly in his ear. He’d never heard a voice as disarming before as he sat in the warm tub, wishing the song would last forever. The room was completely dark, but her eyes danced as she hit the final note. That was when she smiled. She smiled with that smile she always did, kind of crooked in anticipation of the disapproval that will never come. That was perfect, he said. It was not, she giggled. He knew it was, because she was perfect. Her voice unbottled every emotion he carried in a single note. I’m going to build you a studio one day, he whispered. She laughed, and he closed his eyes replaying the last minute over and over in his head. Warm water lapped over their legs as they lay in the water, goose bumps forming on them both as it turned from hot to warm, warm to cold. Neither of them cared to notice because they weren’t in the tub anymore. They were sitting on the porch at the cabin they’d build, sipping on tea and remembering their midnight drives on lonely roads and starlit skies. Dancing in the moonlight, and falling for each other one song at a time.

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Josiah Crocker