Loony tune

Mity sipped her tea, her brow furrowed in concentration. And then her face lit up. “I’ve got it!” she cried. “How about ‘spoon’?”

Amin frowned. “Spoon? How can I use ‘spoon’ when this song’s about a woman feeling lonesome, missing her lover?”

“Well, ‘spoon’ rhymes with ‘moon’,” retorted Mity. “Anyway, it’s better than any of those weird words you’ve come up with: like balloon, rune, swoon…”she broke off, giggling. “Next, you’ll suggest ‘pantaloons'; or maybe 'buffoon’!" Her eyes danced with mirth.

Amin rose. “You’re not being helpful at all!” he growled, and stepped out on to the terrace garden. The earth-brown tiles were ablaze in the afternoon sunlight. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke at a passing bluebottle, his eyes moody. He had to finish writing the song soon—their gig was on Saturday, less than two days away. He knew Mity would be fine with the lyrics, whatever they were…with her silvery, three-octave voice, she could bring passion and soul into anything she sang. “You can make a blues song from a chemical equation!” he’d once told her. But he needed to rehearse the guitar chords with her. And he wanted to get this song right: he’d worked so hard on the lines. It was just this last stanza that was killing him. The first line went: ‘Without you, I drift alone, like the moon…”

And then…what?

His mind was blank.

He finished his cigarette and went back in. The room was empty, but the notepad was in front of Mity’s empty chair. He picked it up and read what she’d written:

“Without you I drift, lonesome as the Moon…
Yearning for my Earth; to hug, to spoon
Oh! Come quickly, come back to me soon
Alone, I’m like a song without a tune…”

[298 words]