I stood, legs steadier than anticipated, and walked to the center of the pavilion.
The paper trembled slightly in my hand.
You learned to make yourself smaller just to make it safely through.
Almost cruelly appropriate.
I looked at Trainer Song, fifteen meters away, framed by valley and sky.
Took a breath.
Sang it.
The line carried beautifully across the space, every word clear, tone supported, resonance forward.
"Again."
I sang it once more, shifting the phrasing—less forward placement, softer consonants.
"Again."
Third attempt. I stripped back the vibrato entirely, made the delivery more intimate, almost spoken.
"Again."
Frustration clawed up my throat. I'd changed approach three times. Each felt defensible. Each technically sound.
"What am I doing wrong?"
"Nothing."
I stared blankly at Trainer Song
"First attempt, you gave me vulnerability."
He lifted one finger.
"Second, restraint."
Another.
"Third, intimacy."
His hand dropped.
"You're giving me options."
