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Mar. 18th, 2009 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themidnightsonIt doesn't strike Edward that it's even happening at first.
He's sitting in a chair near the sunny window, reading a thick brown leather bound book that's at least three quarters his age, when the soft melody of musical notes just starts to accompany the words that are whispering through his thoughts. He pauses for certain seconds, between the words following the rise and descent and small trill and tinkle of changes, only to smoothly finish the sentence he's reading.
He's sitting in a chair near the sunny window, reading a thick brown leather bound book that's at least three quarters his age, when the soft melody of musical notes just starts to accompany the words that are whispering through his thoughts. He pauses for certain seconds, between the words following the rise and descent and small trill and tinkle of changes, only to smoothly finish the sentence he's reading.
