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But she doesn’t hear the applause. She hears only one thing: the echo of her own instrument, still singing somewhere in the rafters, a praise that needs no words, no god, no theology.
“What were you saying?” she asked.
The first movement is titled Meeting . It starts playful, almost clumsy—fingers slipping on purpose, double stops that nearly fall apart before catching themselves. It’s the sound of two people circling each other in a crowded room, pretending not to notice. Then a sudden shift: a soaring, confident melody in E major, the key of sunlight through a window. That was Kael’s laugh, she thinks as she plays. That was the way he’d look at her across a crowded party and raise an eyebrow. Instrumental Praise - XXXX - Love