Flutter

A November night, and a telephone that won't ring.

She sits beside it, counting footsteps outside. The ones that stopped on the stairs belonged to someone else. What's
knocking at the window is the first cold wind of winter, and the dry leaves she never swept away are dancing at her
door. "If you're busy, just hang up" -- she wishes she could say it, and instead she stays there in front of the
receiver.

This time I wanted a song you could sing with sound-words alone. Hara-hara, zawa-zawa, kotsu-kotsu, jiri-jiri. The
sound of leaves fluttering down and the sound of a restless heart are, I think, the same sound. I borrowed the feel of
late-'70s and early-'80s Japanese kayo pop: two bars of intro, then straight into the chorus.

Every chorus, she declares "I'm done waiting," and then takes it back: "...I say, and wait." Three times she puts on a
brave face. The fourth time, in the last chorus, it comes true: "I said it -- and I was already running." The girl who
was just like the fallen leaves kicks through them and walks out the door.

Hara-hara, zawa-zawa. The sound in her chest never changes. What changes is her feet. That's the part I'd like you to
listen for.