Breakfast smells good.
You look terrible, man. Did you stay up all night reworking
that horrid piece of art?
Yeah, but I couldn’t figure it out. That’s art sometimes.
That’s life sometimes.
Can you turn the music down a tad? I’m still waking up.
The wave is coming, Noah!
Huh?
That’s the song playing—“Wave”! Amazing, isn’t it?
Hmmm. I wouldn’t call it amazing, but it’s decent.
Decent? Yo, this is quintessential bossa nova.
. . . .
It’s Brazilian jazz.
Oh. It kinda sounds like I’m on an elevator going up to
my dreaded dentist appointment.
I don’t know what elevator you’ve been riding on, but this
is pure magic. THIS is what floating inside a love boat on
the serene sea of soulmates feels like.
A love boat, dude . . . soulmates? What is going on? Are
you in . . .
Love? I could be. Divya likes me, man.
Congratulations.
She really likes me. She laughed like a songbird at my
brilliant wit, and her velvety violin of a voice soothed my
nerves as soon as we got on the phone. I think it went
really, really well. My first phone date . . .
Your first date, period.
We made a connection. And that’s what’s important. Looks
like one of us had a successful night.
Whatever.
So back to your art . . .
Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe I do suck.
You know what you need to do. You need to listen to the
song. Really listen to it. Again. And again. So, close your
eyes and tap into the rhythm of the song. Escape into it,
float away on the—
Wave, yeah, I get it already, I say, not ready
to admit that
the rhythmic guitar
and the smooth piano
and the soft drums
and, yeah,
the waves,
are kinda refreshing.