- come back and sing a melody to me -
At least a week had passed since Ki had inherited the lovely hibiscus, and to her immense surprise and pleasure, the flower had not begun to wilt.
In fact, it hadn't wilted at all; the edges of the petals hadn't dried, the color did not fade and the stalk never drooped or lost its pollen. All in all, the flower was surviving remarkably, rendering its caretaker in a state of constant amazement. She didn't feel any different outwardly, but Ki felt as though her days seemed to be more peaceful, less stress filled. Could she attribute it to the hibiscus? As she eyed the flower on its pedestal of pillows at her side, she wasn't entirely sure she could say no and mean it.
She was spending another evening watching the History channel, some repeat about Pompei, although she wasn't really watching it. Ki was mostly watching the flower out of the corner of her grey eyes, as if expecting it to leap up and burst into song at any moment. Which made her think of Spaceballs, and that terrible alien popping out of that man at the dinner and singing and...
Even Faust, her grey-blue stripped white cat, was paying attention to the flower. His eyes were closed and he laid quite still, but his ear would flicker every so often as if he were listening. They both seemed to be waiting, but for what?
Ki was eventually bored of pretending to watch the show, turning the television off and turning on her CD player. She lifted the pillow that the hibiscus was perched on, laying down on the couch (without so much as a cursory glance from Faust), preparing to put the pillow on her stomach when she changed her mind. Fingers curled around the soft petals, laying the velvety bloom on her sternum. A smooth jazz tune was playing, the sweet serenade of piano and soft horns lulling the woman to sleep at a remarkable speed.
She had nearly dozed off when she heard a song. It only struck her as unusual because the tune playing wasn't finished, and the song she was hearing didn't belong in it at all. Ki couldn't hear the song clearly, like the words were just soft enough that they were lost beneath the lull of her CD player. She reached over and clicked it off, listening. There was nothing.
The bloom seemed to reach out to her with its stalk, petals trembling with her motions; turning the music back on, much more low this time, she resumed her sleeping position, watching the flower. As to be expected, nothing happened.
The woman sighed softly, closing her eyes and returning to her attempt at napping. As she started to doze off, she hummed softly to herself, the tune she had heard but could not place. Just before Ki slipped into the precipice slumber, she could have sworn she heard another voice join her own, easing her into peaceful dreams.
