Bluer than Velvet
There he was again, leaning against the jukebox, playing the same record … over and over. Nobody else appeared to notice, but I found him mesmerising. He seemed haunted somehow, the words tormenting him.
Tony, the coffee shop owner, refilled my cup.
“That’s Johnnie,” he revealed, catching me watching him.
“He looks so sad.”
“Never got over his childhood sweetheart. Broke his heart when she left him… right after the school prom.”
The words of the song held so much more meaning for me now.
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were…
“Her eyes,” I whispered.
Just as ours met.