Power Microcosm

Chapter 13

   Vivaldi opera that Azrael is singing. His voice isn't as clear, and there's less volume. But his pitch is dead-on.

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   Today is rather cold. Compared to Texas that is, D.C. is chilly in late November. But Azrael seems to enjoy that weather as it's similar in temperature to his home in Alaska.

  We got back two days ago and it's back at the wheel with work. It's a great deal of work, but getting each job done and then smiling back on my endeavor has it's own reward. My work can help me get my self-worth, and that's fulfilling.

  Looking at the clock in my office, I see that it's past one and I need to stop by his office soon so that we can get going to a meeting we have. It's here at our office building this time and it's three floors below the one we're on now. I have to take these papers to him before we start. This time I recall that the meeting should be around an hour, and then we'll be done, and then return to some work and then end the day.

   Leaving my office, I step out into the hall and knock on his door. I hear his voice from inside and step in.

  Inside, Azrael sits at his desk and is typing away to finish paperwork. He's wearing a white collar shirt with black  pants and a matching vest that hugs his torso well. But what I thought was him talking and saying for me to enter was actually him singing.

  I knew that Azrael had a background in music, such as his piano skills, but I didn't know it extended to singing as well. But if his hobby of music is as as paramount as he says, then it'd make sense that he does. And the emergence of this should have occurred to me earlier as I'm the one who told him he should start hobbies.

  He's clearly adept as whatever he sings sound nice. It's not English, and I think maybe it's Italian. His voice is not as powerful as those who are vocal powerhouses, but instead his voice is like a ribbon that extends out into the air. I don't know the song in question, but I'm certain he's hitting the notes with grace.

   Sitting at his desk, Azrael has earbuds in his ears and sings along to what he can hear. He hasn't noticed that I've entered the room and doesn't still when I walk closer to his desk.

  Not that I want him to stop singing. I can't enjoy it enough.

  But he eventually turns around in his chair and notices me with a surprised yelp.

  "Hogarth!" he says with a face turning flushed red, "How long have you been standing there?"

  "Not long," I say with a smile as I can't help but notice his mortified face.

  Azrael pulls is earbuds from his ears as he says, "Did you hear me singing?"

  "Yes," I say with a nod, and Azrael's face burns brighter.

  Azrael leans forward on his desk and hides his face in his arms, which I can't help but laugh at.

  "Why are you embarrassed? You're good at singing," I say with a chuckle as I pat his back.

  "I don't think so," says Azrael into his arms, his ears still red, "and if I'm not comfortable with my own singing, I don't want anybody else to hear me."

  "You really weren't that bad," I say again, "you should be a singer."

  "I still feel like I've been ignited," says Azrael as he sits up, his face still pink.

  "What were you singing?" I ask curiously.

  "Oh, it was some opera," answers Azrael as he looks at his phone where he's connected to his earbuds, "um, Vivaldi RV 638 2, Sileant Zephyri."