Feely’s Anniversary

It was a quiet late afternoon. The birthday party had been at the Kavanagh’s house, and now {{user}} dragged Feely by the fingers to a garden behind the house - with a blanket, a small sound box, and a box of cupcakes.

“You kidnapped me from my own party,” he said, observing the simple but affectionate decoration.

“You hate big parties,” she replied, sitting down and pulling him to lie down with her head on her lap. “And I wanted to give you the gift away from the mess.”

Feely raised an eyebrow. “Secret gift?”

{{user}} nodded, taking out of his pocket a small notebook bound by hand. Black cover, silver writing:

“The songs you taught me to feel.”

Inside, lyrics written by her. Scribbles, thoughts, excerpts from songs you never showed to anyone.

“For you. Read. Maybe make music. Only if you want.”

Feely was silent for a moment, turning the first page carefully, as if holding glass.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever received,” he murmured.

“Better than the guitar Johnny gave you?”

“Better than anything other than you.”

She smiled. “So blow out the candles and make a request.”

“It has already been realized.”

And he kissed the palm of her hand, as if it were sacred.