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We Were All Made of Stars

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In her head, drums beat out a smooth rhythm. It takes her a moment, but she soon recognizes it. She hasn't heard this song for a very long time, since it is an older song and has fallen out of favor in the wake of newer, more popular music. But she loves it, has ever since it first aired on the radio. The singer's voice seemed to slide over her skin like liquid velvet. Every time she heard those first drum beats, she'd close her eyes and would instantly be transported to some faraway place.

Without realizing it, she adjusts her gait to the beat in her head, so that every step is a drumbeat. She does this often with songs she likes, changes her movements to match the tempo. Faster songs she saves for jogging down the long, bare trails in the woods behind her home, where she can pound out the words she can never say out loud. Slower melodies are for work, where no one will mind or even notice when she sways to tunes only she can hear.

It plays in a loop in her head, the last notes fading out and starting up again with barely a moment's hesitation between. That's how it always is when something gets stuck in her head. Normally, it annoys her, but today has not been the best, and this song makes her think of happier times. She smiles to herself and continues on her way.

And if a note or two slips from her throat, who is there to hear? The sidewalk is crowded with people going about their lives, walking in groups of two or three, or in some cases, by themselves as well. She pays them no mind, and they return the favor in kind. This is no different than any other day.

That's the way she likes it.