A Beacon within the Shadows

I heard "Here's Where the Story Ends" by The Sundays as I strolled through the HSBC downstairs on my way to grab lunch. Quite the unlikely place to hear such a wonderful song. I work in a rather lifeless building; the HSBC below, in particular, is perhaps more lifeless than death. Over the past nine years, I'd never heard anything but muffled chatter and the click-clack of heels as I cut through its lobby. Yet today, as I entered that void, my ears perked up immediately, and my eyes wandered toward the ceiling in search of the source of that sweet sound. I can recognize Harriet Wheeler's lovely voice anywhere, even in the depths of a black hole.

So for the most fleeting of moments, I had a smile on my face, and I felt as if I had stumbled upon a flowery meadow in the bowels of Midtown Manhattan.