The Ice age

She is singing, eyes closed. Singing-along, to be precise. The  ipod, her conductor,  whispers sweet commands through head-phones. The room  drowns from the symphony  of her vocal cords. I clear my throat as a precursor to my rehearsed speech when inspiration strikes.  There’s only one way to talk to a singer like her: with music.

—

I get her an in-ear-monitor-headphone-thingie that singers use to hear themselves. She excitedly tries it right-away. My husband is excited too seeing my gift as the end of the cold war between me and his mother.

As she sings her expression gets frostier and frostier.

—end —-

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Also I  would never get my mother-in-law an in-ear-monitor-headphone-thingie in real life…that would be inhuman 😉

This exactly 100 word work of pure fiction was written in response to a 100 word photo-prompt based challenge conducted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Picture courtesy of Rochelle’s husband Jan W. Fields.

Click the froggy below for other amazing takes on the same prompt by fellow Friday Fictioneers.