Voices and revelries

"I don't feel good today." She said with a sigh.
They sat opposite each other. He sat on the armchair, she sat on the couch, her hands folded.
He didn't ask why. He knew she wouldn't want to answer.
He didn't like it when she looked upset.
So he started talking about his day. He knew what would cheer her up.
The black clouds left the room.
His voice soothed her. He spoke reassuringly, and in a low tone. The words were not hurried at all.
He had the most pleasant voice she had ever heard. When he spoke, words seemed to flow musically. It was not loud. It was not quiet.
She unfolded her hands, and kept them relaxed by her side. She didn't respond except with a smile, because she didn't want him to stop talking.
It was astounding how one person could make anything sound beautiful. It was something she could sleep on.
He had a caress in his voice. There was no better caress.
It was steady.
He said her name like no one else ever had.
Like it was made for him to say.
She sipped her tea slowly.
She wondered, how could a voice just make her feel so many things, all at once?
His voice resonated in her head, even when there was silence. There were times when she she felt shy, and didn't dare to look up. She fiddled with her fingers.
She played with the elaborate cushion coverings.
 He couldn't help smiling at her childish antics. He noticed her plucking nervously at the cushions.
He talked. He talked about his life, his plans, his views on the world. Even the way he spoke about the over-sweet tea made her nerves peaceful.
She settled back in the chair, and curled her foot under her leg. She held the cushion close to her.
A breeze blew wildly outside, and some strands of hair flew to her face. The room felt cool. The trees swayed outside. The skies were streaked with orange. It was a wild evening, with a strange calm.
She had a blissful smile on her face now. Her brow was no longer furrowed with worry.
He looked at her. He stopped talking. She was a little disconcerted.
She asked him "What happened?"
"I thought you were going to sleep."
"Doesn't matter." she said her hand under her cheek.
He was about to play music, but she refused. It was not music she needed.
So he continued. He gently put the blanket over her. His fingers gently brushed hers.
He was sure she was asleep now.
"Sleep well." he whispered gently.
She heard it.
Her dreams would be better today.