Black Cherries
Listen very carefully. There, can you hear it? No? Oh well, you will. Everybody does, eventually. When you do finally hear it, you'll wonder what you ever did without it. There isn't anything else like it in the world. The music seemed repetitive at first, but subtle differences could be heard. It was almost as if it was trying to tell us something. The harmonies rose and fell all around us, the pitch occasionally traveling beyond the realm of human hearing. The intense colours presented by the music were astounding. I could have died a happy man at that very moment. The tempo began to change. The soft, smooth rhythm began to tear through the night, sending our senses soaring into unexplored realms. I would have howled with joy, had I been able. Never before had human beings experienced pleasure on such a fundamental level, as we did on that night. The music took us places, and we didn't ever want to come back.
I remember that night fondly, the way she smelled, the way her hair seemed to glow in the moonlight. For me, there had never been a moment like that before, a moment of such total happiness, that I was able to shed my cynicism like so much dead skin. It's a shame that night had to end. I never said to her what I wanted to say. I never told her what I felt. I was always so sure that there would be a next time.
Neither of us had been drinking. That was a good thing. To enjoy her company when I was sober was a gift from the gods. I would kill to have that experience again. She had so much energy. She talked for hours, and I hung on every word, listening for the music. It was there. It was faint, mind you, but it was there. I failed her that night, as I failed myself. There would never be another chance, another night. I will take that regret to my grave. It was a good night nonetheless. I would not trade that memory for all the world.
To this day, I miss her.
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Fiction
 Black Cherries
Sonic Reactor
Central Park
Sacrifice
The Pure Blue Ocean
An Angel Kissed Me
Four Years of My Life
Gloria
Fading Signals
The Yellow Leaves
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