Summary: Abby loves music.
A/N: No beta, written quickly. Mistakes are given chores.
Abby's great love of music came from the fact that her parents could never truly understand its beauty. They could feel vibrations and differences in the feeling, but they couldn't hear it. There was beauty in music. Beauty and freedom and was lost to those who couldn't hear it.
The music she usually listened to was not often referred to as pretty. It was loud and thumping and well, loud. That obnoxious sound wasn't the only thing she listened to. Abby couldn't fathom the boyband movement, but she could appreciate the poetry of Josh Groban. A friend had convinced her to try the Postal Service and she found they were good for an evening in, relaxing in the comfort of her apartment.
A hidden favorite and something she kept off her iPod, just in case, were musicals. Her freshman year of college she'd been stuck in the dorms with a theatre major. As a result, Abby knew the words to most of Andrew Lloyd Webber's classics.
What Abby truly loved about the music she listened to was how it made her feel. Her favorite band could always cheer her up after a rough day of testing DNA. Christmas music made her think of being a kid and the great anticipation of Christmas morning and the pile of presents beneath the tree.
Every so often the songs she listened to reminded her of the people she loved. Music understood the heartbreak of loving someone you couldn't have. It told you of the pain you carried when a close friend died. Music could comfort in a way that some people just couldn't.
Abby loved her music and was grateful for the gift of hearing. She only wished her parents could just once hear the beauty of music.