Broken Record
It was a song that ended like the stomping of a foot on a hollow ground. The sound of a rock plummeting down a well and splashing into a waterless bottom. A thump in the whole heart of an abyss. The song carried on its melody with splendor and jovial beating until ending on a minor note that seemed to ring on and on. Ingrained in this note, was the memory of the major one before it. That song which played as feed for a smile, became the feed for a cry and lasted until the record player was thrown against a brick wall. I don’t like broken records.