It had been days since Amy felt the desire to go outside.
Not that her days were going particularly well. She was down to her last meal- turns out raising a cat was more expensive than she had anticipated.
She still couldn't muster the courage to look for a job, preferably freelance. Interviews were hard enough without having to explain an un-diagnosed situation she barely understood herself.
And that wasn't everything.
Her show was taking a turn for the worse. Amy didn't know who was responsible or why, but she could feel it shifting- turning into a ladder-climbing circus instead of the eye-opener it was meant to be.
She could call them.
But why would she?
So when everything became too much, she decided to take a walk.
The building felt different that day. People bustled through the hallways, urgency in their steps, noise echoing off the walls. It reminded her uncomfortably of the set. The only difference was that no one asked her for anything.
"Amy," Malcolm called out, surprised when he spotted her outside her room. "Are you looking for April?"
Amy turned, smiled, and shook her head.
"I didn't really get the chance to apologize for my behavior last time," Malcolm said awkwardly, earning a few chuckles from nearby students."I was a dumbass and I'm sorry"
Amy hated discomfort- and it was clear Malcolm wasn't much better at handling it either. Stopping her in the middle of a crowd must have been hard for him..
She smiled, took his hand, and gently pulled him toward the elevator.
"I'm sorry," Malcolm laughed nervously. "I don't know why I always show you this side of me."
Amy rummaged through her pockets, looking for something to write on. Malcolm hesitated, then offered her a stack of music sheets.
She looked at him, confused.
"They're going to get shredded anyway," he shrugged. "Might as well use them."
Thank you, she wrote.
When the elevator arrived, they stepped inside- enduring a round of playful roasting from students on the way in. Malcolm, apparently, was a favorite target.
So what do you actually do here?
"Management, mostly. A bit of gardening too-" Malcolm paused, then gasped as an idea struck him. "Hey! Why don't you come to the bash tonight and see for yourself?"
I could use some air.
"Yes!" Malcolm said, pumping his fists into the air before quickly composing himself.
Wow, your students are insanely talented!
"I know, right?" Malcolm beamed. "But their teachers don't get it."
Why not?
"Well, for starters, most of their compositions get rejected for 'breaching moral boundaries.'" He shook his head.
That's bullshit!
"You get it!" Malcolm lit up. "I don't even understand how anyone can put limits on art."
Such a waste of good music.
"They only want songs about romance and money these days," Malcolm sighed as the elevator reached the first floor.
"So… this is where we part?" he said, suddenly reluctant.
Or maybe not?
That note was all the encouragement he needed.
Malcolm led Amy down the stairs- and she stepped into something close to heaven.
Flowers of every kind complemented one another under soft, candle-shaped lights- not too bright, not too dim. Wooden furniture filled the space, a small stage stood ready for performances, and a bar glowed quietly in the corner.
Wow, Amy mouthed, stunned.
"I know I said tonight," Malcolm said sheepishly, "but the students went above and beyond. I couldn't wait."
It's beautiful! She wrote before taking the little stage in.
Can I hold onto these though ? she then wrote, gesturing to the music sheets.
"I guess…" Malcolm trailed off, caught off guard. "You can read music?"
Singing was my passion when I was little so I took some classes.
Malcolm stared at her, speechless.
Can someone really sing in ASL?