The night was cool. One could feel the gentle breeze wafting through the bars that lined the windows. It rendered the naked feet cold. She pulled them up, folded them in a criss-cross fashion and was comfortable. A song was being listened to on and off, when the mind paid attention to it and not. The lead singer sang to the tune, she whistled along with the latter. She tried to do do a good whistle but most times, a low feeble whistle emerged out. Her folks were mighty whistlers. They could be heard even when they were present in a different room.
She wished she could also acquire the same. But, i guess, she wasn't gifted to that extent. Sometimes, when traveling in a bus, she had earphones plugged to her ears. And whistle she would, inviting stares from her fellow travellers. Air was sensed as it as she expelled it through a narrow constriction made by her lips.
A crying toddler could thus be silenced, when whistled into it's face. A look of surprise lighting up the kid's features, drawing its attention. At times, on prolonged whistling, her facial muscles would strain, inducing pain and exhaustion in the process. She then, would be forced to stop. Even when she wanted to continue.
She now whistles to a track playing aloud, straying at places when she feels like it. And she hopes that she'd gain the skill when she can whistle out. Loud and clear.