The record player hid silently in its cupboard. But today Janet tugged finger-printed glass to run her fingers over serried ranks of discs still standing to attention.
“Those were the days.”
“Yeah, right Mom.”
“Well, they were.” But the music was gone.
Janet’s daughter clicked the mouse on another choice as it scrolled on her computer. She tapped her fingers to ragged sound and bent her head to studies. Meanwhile Janet continued to clean, ears filled with memories, waist circled lightly with arms still holding tight, his breath brushing her smile.
If only he’d lived as long as the song.