“We’ll see what happens,” the Wife shrugged as she grabbed her bag and keys.
The Husband looked up. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
The Wife lowered her bag and countered, “C’mon. You know that’s how it goes, right? It’s not like we have any control over what actually happens. We jump in, and then…yeah. We’ll see what happens.” She glanced out the window, at the reddening sky, at the dark figures beginning to assemble and approach in the streets below.
“Whoa, whoa, wait a second,” the Husband said. “What’s this about we? I’m not leaving this apartment, and I’m not about to have you out there – out in all of that – knowing that something – that anything – could happen.”
“Well,” the Wife chuckled, “it’s not like anything could happen. I’m just saying that we don’t know what will happen. There’s really only one way to find out.”
In silent spaces between people there is often a sound. Listen carefully. You can hear the hum of the world. But in this silence, in this apartment, there grew something different. This sound was rising, thrumming, pulsing. At first it was a single, gentle tone, then it crescendoed and diverged, moment by moment and note by note, until it seemed as though it were a symphony of every instrument, if every instrument could play every note at the same time.
“Are you crazy?” the Husband shouted over the din. “There’s danger out there. Whatever’s out there-“
“Or…WHOever is out there,” the Wife interrupted. The figures out the window seemed more numerous now, and the sound was even louder.
“Whatever’s out there can’t be good,” the Husband added. Just the thought of those dark figures filled him with foreboding.
The Wife considered his words. She actually liked the sound. Yes, there was dissonance, and at first listen it sounds harsh and uncomfortable. But there is also comfort in leaning into that dissonance, of pressing into those close quarters, of getting into the tiny cracks between sounds and pushing into them, only to be pushed back. To her, it was kind of like musical swaddling.
The Wife said, “Whatever’s out there might be good or bad. We don’t know. But this music gives me a good feeling. And I’m up for finding out.”
The sound swelled in the apartment. There was not enough room for all three of them. The Husband and Wife both closed their eyes and leaned: one inward, one outward.
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 