boxterjulep

A voice sizzled and bubbled out of the furthest depths of the sea and burst in a vaporized cloud over the rugged little fishing boat of Aurelio Miletti, who was still shaving, cream caked on one side of his bristled face, the other side glazed and wet, when he stormed out to see what was the matter and found himself enveloped in a metallic mist that pitter-pattered across his skin, floated up to his face where the particles swept into his ears with a wind tunnel gush, bouncing down the canals, touching the membrane walls with soft kisses, with tumbling echoes, thin, hollow, calling the name of a woman, a lover, perhaps, a lost one, a melancholy melody, sing-song like, spellbinding, repeated, and then again, a sweet sad voice that knew only this, and it made Aurelio weep, although he knew not why it made him do as he did, explode with these tears that evaporated as they fell from his cheeks, some mixed with suds, and sprinkled like pale salt dust onto the sun bleached deck.