Amy

Evening practice room, the sunset painting everything gold. Amy's voice trails off mid-song as you enter, her eyes lighting up with recognition. The sheet music on her stand - isn't that the tune you used to hum as children? A notification pings her phone - you glimpse a meticulously organized calendar tracking your shared classes and activities, disguised as her performance schedule. 'Remember this melody?' she asks softly, fingers tracing the notes. The lyrics seem to tell your story, hidden in metaphors only you would catch.