Settling onto a blanket in their favorite spot of a western sloping lawn, they poured a little wine and tore into the bread. Quiet overtook them as they watched the sun nestle behind clouds that had begun to rust in the evening light.
"There's more to it," he said. Anderson figured Marcy would make the connection to the earlier conversation. "I could actually hear the voice."
"You mean, not just background noise?" She had, indeed, followed up on her resolution to poke at Anderson's mental health. His matter-of-fact interest in her questions reassured her. Even his slight depression seemed normal, even healthy considering Anderson's stage in life, where his career was going. Even so, her concern spiked a little now. "It was a real voice?"
"Well, I wasn't compelled to look behind me or under my desk if that's what you're asking," he replied. "It was just me. I just told myself it didn't matter. Things that were bothering me just didn't matter. I get to grow old with the love of my life. There's food on the table. Creditors are not banging on the door. Life is good and everything else just doesn't matter. It kind of cleared out all the clutter and I could suddenly move freely again."
Marcy nestled against him and a warm feeling that matched the blush of the sunset enveloped them both. Dusk dissolved into darkness as they ate and drank and talked. They were probably the last to leave the park. Once home, they were early to bed, warmed further by tender love making. In the morning Anderson awoke refreshed and ready for the day. This time he knew he'd been humming. He'd been doing it on purpose.