After The Madness Workshop # B-5

My relationship with Eric Wentworth began and ended with a song. B’s notes: I like this first line. Great hook! The song it started with was classic, beautiful, serene. A song that conjured up images of ballerinas floating across a stage, or ladies in large hoop dresses dancing with men wearing fancy coats and neckties. A song you could fall in love to.

Our end—well that song was unfinished. Just notes, a few phrases, nothing complete. It was an experiment, an attempt. A beginning—in its own way. But it was our end. Or at least it was the soundtrack to our end.

Luckily, I never had to hear that song in its entirety. Maybe he gave up on it, maybe it was jinxed. Whatever the reason, I was glad I didn’t have to hear it blaring from the radio, our demise turned into a number one hit.

That didn’t stop me from hearing him though. Soon he was everywhere. I couldn’t avoid him. Sometimes I wanted to, wished I could, wished his voice would stop haunting me. But sometimes I listened, clutching my memories to my chest as if they were the most precious thing I owned.

It was almost a relief, when life got in the way. Then I didn’t have to make the choice. But hardly a day went by that I didn’t think of him, or hear him, at least once. 

B’s notes: This is a great opening. Love this! But why not just say right out that Eric Wentworth is a famous singer and he wrote songs for her before he became famous? This is just my thought, and some one else may feel differently.