short story

Windchime

The breeze gently moved the wind chime. The sound filled the room like moonlight fills the night and then died away slowly like day dies in twilight.

Watching it swirl was a pleasure she never missed. The windchime kept singing for her near that window. Always telling her musical tales. It sang even when she didn’t care to listen.

She made new friends and went away. Left everything behind. Those songs, tales, breeze and the windchime.

But it still waited.

It waited and waited. Waited for her to return and hear it again.
And she came back to her world. That window, breeze and tales. Back to the windchime. And its music which was still in the room.

It still sings and never complained to her for not listening.

Just like he never complained.

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