*Intended to be read while listening to this

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Open windows offered a respite from the blazing summer days that softened into summer nights, the breeze rivaling only the gorgeous tones of the setting sky. Papers flapped on the kitchen table but were paid no mind. Curtains swung softly, peacefully, and in this moment the city and all its creatures, seemed content.

The woman stood at the stove, the kitchen fan humming while the pan before her sizzled. Stirring in a methodical motion, the woman hummed in harmony to her environment. A siren far away blared, which was not uncommon but added a layer to her song and it quickly faded away.

She stirred again, the candles on the counter flickering from the commotion. Tapping the spoon on the edge of the pan, she left the spoon to sit and went to the fridge, her song continuing.

The woman’s braid swung over her spaghetti strapped shoulder as she leaned into the cold, a brief relief that caused her to take a deep breath. She pushed strands away from her face as she stood. Continuing her song, she added ingredients one perfect moment at a time and savored the comfort this space brought her, the awareness it brought to her body.

How simple, to sing along with a fan. How profoundly human. Moments like this did not come often enough.

On the streets below, the man had walked down the block to his apartment building. At the corner some friends stood and opened their arms in greeting, each holding a brilliant smile for the weekend ahead. The men stood together, making plans as the evening came alive, but the man could not stay in conversation with them without looking up.

He figured it had to be the apartment three floors up. Most windows were open this time of year, at this point in the day. But with inexplicable certainty he knew it was these windows that drew his appeal.

From it came an aroma that forced his hunger to the surface, lunch had been forgotten.

From it there was also a voice. Soft and alone, but not sad. He continued to look up, hoping to catch a glimpse of who it was.

The woman turned off the stove and plated her meal, in tandem halting the kitchen fan from performing. Yet her voice carried on as she walked to the fire escape. With a final note, she brought her feet over the windowsill, and she sat in a moment of silence before enjoying her meal.

Taxis honked, but their otherwise intrusive sound added to the melody that continued even in silence. Laughs were heard below, and her eyes dropped to gaze at the people below her.

He thought perhaps he would never again have the chance to find out who it was. He had almost looked away in this moment, and where would we be if he had. In the briefest of moments before he had, he stayed one moment longer, and the closing notes of her song revealed far more than anything his mind could have conjured up.

No one had ever been as beautiful to him as the woman that now sat in the window. Her mouth was set in such a pleasant way, her eyes bright as the sunset bathed her in gold. He thought surely it would be selfish to attempt to gain her attention but was a desperate enough man to try.

Life was easy on these kinds of nights. Kitchen fans held melodies instead of grating noises, children laughed, and their stomping feet were signs of life instead of a nuisance. Meals tasted better, colors were brighter, sighs were not so deep. Connection could be found in all things.

The man, though desperate, was not unlucky, as the group of men around him called the attention he now craved.

She peered down and their eyes met, her pleasant features broke, offering him the gift of a smile that he couldn’t help but share back. He waved to her, and she returned it.

What else could he do, but relish in all that this was.

What else could she do but offer him a seat.

Life was easy on these kinds of nights. With warm breezes and perfect harmonies, connection could be found in all things.