This is a short story I wrote at some point in a (physical) notepad I carry with me. I most likely wrote it sometime in 2023.
They say that when you die, you know you're dead because you can't hear music anymore.
That night, the wind blew outside Walter and Claire's old house.
The wind chime tinkled, sweet in their ears, as they sat at their kitchen table, silently keeping one another company.
"How are you, Walter?"
Walter remain silent.
He slowly looked up at Claire with a sad look.
"Do you hear that, Claire?"
"No, Walter. What is it?"
"The wind chime. It stopped."
Claire looked deep into Walter's eyes.
Walter slowly drew back his chair.
He paused a moment, then stood up.
"Well, Claire, I'd best be going now."
"I know, Walter."
Walter started towards the door.
He'd always had a spritely step. Pit pat, pit pat, as he danced across the floor.
But, now, it was slow and tired.
Walter took the door handle gently, turned it, and drew the door open.
The air was still now.
Walter gave a deep sigh.
"I'd best be going now."
As Walter placed one foot out the door, he paused.
He turned to look back at Claire.
"Do you hear that, Claire?"
"What is it, Walter?"
Walter was silent for a moment, lost in a stare.
Then, a smile spread over his face.
"It's beautiful."
