• She came out on stage, the lights burning her eyes. She tried to scan the crowd, but could make out no faces. Hoping he was there, hoping they were there, she sat down to play. She imagined she could see him, them, and played for them. Played out her heart for them. She played perfectly, beautifully. It was her soul song. She knew it so well, gave it to them she imagined seeing. When the lights dimmed, and she stood for a bow, they were not there, all the faces, no one there at all.

    The faces meant nothing to her, without those she longed to see among them. The ones she played for, have her soul to, there were not there. At that moment, nothing mattered anymore. Her song, her soul, they meant nothing. She felt nothing. She smiled and bowed again, and walked off the stage, out off the building, into the pouring rain. It hid her tears better than any excuse she could conjure.

    Around the corner, down the street, the back alley was so inviting. She slid down the wall, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her sobs wracked her body, shaking so hard. She sobbed, cried, screamed. But it all meant nothing, because no one could hear her. No one was here. She was as alone as alone could be. Alone in the world, alone in her life. They, who said they would be there, not just tonight but her whole life, had failed yet again to hold true to their word.

    When the moon was high and the traffic had stopped, she rose from the ground, a ghost of herself, and began to walk. He walk wandered, never straight, with no clear destination. The dark streets seemed endless, like a labyrinth. She continued on, never ceasing, never slowing. She just walked. Sometimes her tears flowed so heavily she could not see, and had to feel her way across the building walls. Sometimes her sobs wracked her body so had it took everything she had to keep walking. One foot in front of the other. It was all she could do.

    Outside their house, the wind blowing, she stood staring at the top window. Inside all was dark. Inside, all was still. She climbed the steps, entered the house. She left the door open, wind howling behind her. Inside, she found the steps, ascending to the bedroom above. The door was cracked open, light peering through. She entered, silent as a ghost. They were asleep, cold still figures. With bangs hidden by the screaming wind, they began their eternal sleep.

    The newspaper reported the death of a couple, still seemingly asleep in their bed. That day, a body was found outside the home of her high school best friend’s house, across the street from the theatre where a grand performance, the best the town had ever seen, was played only the night before. She hung from a window ledge, blood dripping from her mouth. A sign around her neck asking for love.