Cecelia’s high clear voice reached him from the other room. She always sang when she had something on her mind. Every note was something she needed to say, but couldn’t. It was as if she wanted him to guess how she felt by the song she chose.
When they first met, he could see a light in her eyes. But Cecelia’s eyes looked darker these days. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him anymore. She just loved him differently. More friend, than lover. It was ending. He wish she’d just say it. He wish she’d stop singing and start talking.