banal complacency.
“You see, before, there was noise before the music started. You pressed PLAY on the cassette player and first you heard some hissing. A bit of a ‘sshhh’ noise. A couple of seconds. Then the music started.”
His long fingers were resting on the rim of the empty coffee cup. He turned it around by less than what would be a second on the face of a watch.
“These days — there’s no hissing,” he said, “No hissing before the music. No noise. And no tape. I click PLAY on my phone. One second it’s completely quiet and then, out of nowhere, I hear the music. The music starts with no warning.”
He relaxed his hand on the cup altogether and the weight tipped the cup over.
She set the cup up for him as he buried his hands under the table.
His fingers were curled up in a fist of embarrassment.
“What’s a cassette player,” she said.
He took his time responding.
“Noise. Noise before the music. That’s what it is,” he said without meeting her eye.
