In music, a reprise (pron.: /rəˈpriːz/ rə-PREEZ; from French)[1] is the repetition or reiteration of the opening material later in a composition as occurs in the recapitulation of sonata form, though—originally in the 18th century—was simply any repeated section, such as is indicated by beginning and ending repeat signs.
Recapitulation...now that was funny.
But as he started walking towards the Burnet train station wondering about a bus, or a taxi, or which thumb to hold up while hitch-hiking he discovered that sometimes lightning does strike twice.
Wait.
Again it was hard to hear, but he had her voice tattooed in his mind.
I thought I was going to let you go ride alone he said...tracing his steps back to her. Again. A move he had mastered.
I know. And you did. And I will. But I wanted a hug.
A hug?
A hug.
He stepped into her, invaded her space and extended his arms, parallel to each other. She molded into him.
Envelope.
She was caught up against him but he heard her say what?
He felt her like a frailty; his thumb was against her spine and he gently moved it up and down. She smelled like an afternoon of sun and clouds, slight smoke from the train and a lotion he couldn't quite describe.
He tensed his arms gently, signaling a release. They unfolded.
What did you say?
He kind of smiled. I said "envelope" It's dumb I know but when I think of you I think of enveloping you...but I end up thinking of the word envelope. That stupid "e" on the end is stuck in my head.
She smiled, and against the day it was something he would remember the most.
Well...goodbye.
See you.
He watched her, knowing that she knew he was watching her. At the stairs to the train she turned and waved. He raised his arm, hand open. Empty.
It was the same way he felt in her departure...
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