Page 81 of Rock Me

"Very lucky, the luckiest." I shoo her away and start packing the last of my clothes and things into the suitcase she left for me. There's not much. Just a few pairs of jeans, a book or two.

And my ukulele. I didn't let her touch that.

I run my fingers over it, and the song from last night instantly appears in my head again. It's still early and I don't want to bother the other patients, so I just sit and listen to it in my head.

Grabbing the music manuscript paper that's always in my uke case, I start writing it down.

Note by note the song appears in front of me. Like words on a page, but better. I play the music over in my head, checking my mistakes, and then I add the lyrics.

I can't help but tear up as I write. This song is the best thing I've ever composed.

The truest, most honest. The simplest.

And a part of me wishes that I could play this song for the world, because then they would understand me.

It's done.

I print the title on top and place it on the tray.

Finish packing, Noémie, I tell myself. It's time to go home.