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What I miss most about the old world is music. I used to hum and sing, I used to play the violin and piano. But when I do now, they make no sound. I can imagine it, but I can't hear it. My companion seems sad about this as well. When I try to play music, their head hangs and shoulders droop, like they miss it too. I want to play a song to comfort them, but I can't.
We make music, even if we can't hear it. They used to play cello. Whenever we find one, they pick it up and play. I cannot hear, but I know it sounds good. Their fingers move skillfully, and they seem well versed.
At night, we turn on old battery powered radios. I imagine static, a broadcast from another human. I imagine distorted, familiar music. They imagine it too. I see them relax when I turn on the radio.
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