On-One-Word: Microphone

The noise emitting from the whistle between your teeth is so fleeting, so barely there, that no one but I can hear it. But I do hear it. And I take this man-made melody, and I allow it to pass against and beyond the regular barriers of sound. I spread it out, and open it up to new ears, like the smallest box, with the largest gift, taped up. I will be your scissors.