The Sound That Water Makes

by R.L. Wisdom

Dear(er) Melissa,

     It has been a while…I suppose some contact is necessary.  (Ray opens the freezer door.)  I haven’t seen Tom in more than a few weeks.  (From the freezer, Ray removes a bag.)  I would assume the two of you are traveling on the weekends, no?  (After closing the freezer door, Ray places the bag on the counter and then opens the bag.)  Your birthday party was the last time I spoke to Tom.  I suspect that he is not happy with me.  (From the bag, Ray pulls a large block of ice.)  I will soon call him and see if he has any interest in a drink after work, or perhaps he would like to shoot some stick at a local watering hole.  (Ray then opens a drawer looking for a mallet or some such object with which to swing.)  I have been very busy these past few months.  I just realized I have broken the conditions by asking a question of you.  Admittedly, it is a rather innocuous question, and just barely a question at that.  All the same, forgiveness please; edit I shall not.  (Ray finds a hammer and an ice-pick.)  I believe in leaving my actual thoughts on the page, even though I have the power—now—to go back and delete them.  (Ray notices that the ice-pick is dirty, so he washes it.)  While I have much to say, I haven’t anything left to write.  (Ray stabs the ice-pick into the center of the ice, steadies his hand and prepares to swing the hammer with much force.  Hoping throughout, that his aim is true and his fingers don’t pay for his inaccuracy.)  I do love to correspond via letters.  (Ray takes a deep breath.)  The tempo and timbre of one’s voice can be steadied and a rhythmic tone can be created for purposes of altering form if need be.  (Ray swings and hits his mark.)

I hope you are happy,

(Ray hesitates to open his eyes.  He thinks he hears the sound of ice melting.)

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