Free

The strange syncopated rhythm was lurking at the back of the heavy rock music as the radio nonchalantly blasted for the past five minutes. She chose the hard rocker boots from underneath her bed and donned the white shirt with a high collar.

Her mobile rang. It was Chopin’s fantasie impromptu.

An almost nausea stare looked into the mirror. She had had always hated her ringtone. The constant tempo and regular structure of the variation suddenly sounded worse than an out of tuned trumpet pathetically trying to hit the high notes. It felt like the constricted embouchure tied her up. And, the withheld, well-scored music from the mobile is making her fall inwards, crumbling into claustrophobe.

She picked up the black eye liner and drew a prefect line just above her eye lashes. Her fair complexion made the colour even darker. Then, there was this slight smug from her lips. Somewhat, she could feel herself moving away from the ringtone which did not stop since just now. Then, the world became silent as she stepped into the boots and opened the door.

Perhaps, she was freed.