"We are the music makers..."
Fingertips, that happen to be slightly reddened along the pads, trace along the sharp edges of the amplifiers that fill the room. Not a single musical talent in her body, but she's fascinated by the sight. Oddly enough, a sentimental value is carried, one that she cannot identify the root of. A smile in her eyes keeps her expression from being labeled as too plain.
"And we are the dreamers of dreams."
The clicking of heels against the granite floor were slowly knocking her out of her trance. Women all around, in various outfits, scurry in search of the person they seek. Willow pays a negative percentage of attention to the women. Her fascination with the carnations of the artifacts before carry her sole focus. Slowly, but surely, her bad conscious convinces Willow to wander away into the back storage room. In here, she sits, starring at the large speakers filling the warehouse-styled storage space of her employment building.
"They're a real sight, aren't they?"
Willow nods with a hum. "They sure are," she says. "I'm not too good at music but–"
"They're prepossessing."
"Yes," Willow admits. She turns around to face the male, he's got a certain look in his eye that she finds far beyond familiar.
"Trust me, I get it," he laughs.
Willow giggles a bit before allowing it to fall into a sigh. "So," she says, toying with her broken pen in her hand. "Are you the new guy they were talking about hiring?" He shakes his head in a calm manner, the afro he wears undulates with his bobbing head. "Oh... So–"
"Would you like to hang out some time? I know a place where you can find a lot of these things." He proposes the idea in a natural tone of genuine inquiry. "Nothing beats fascination and a little imagination."
Willow nods her head once more, "Uh, sure. What time?"
"Whenever you like." Willow prepares herself to question the being on the regards of his name when he looks over his shoulder. He isn't listening, he's too busy starring at the door as he listens closely to the frantic women on the outside. Willow asks, he does not hear her question. "I have to go. I'll make sure someone gets you my number. Nice to meet you..." He leans forward to glance at her name tag. "Willow."
Willow awkwardly waves before feeling intrigued to follow him. He wanders off out of her sight as he settles at a podium. Willow stares closely as she watches the women file closer to the podium. In the far front of the store, closest to the window display, is a giant sign with his name on it. His name is Prince.
