26
Guy bent over the mixing board. The board, which had moments ago mixed a symphony, let out a distorted screech when his palm slid the faders up. With his left hand, he hit the mute button. His right hand clenched at his chest.
Watching the sun fade from Midori’s eyes had been like walking to the beat of a death march. The sound thudded in his ears. His heart felt ready to burst out of his chest. He wanted to run after Midori, but his body refused to move. He slammed down into his chair. His body collapsed in a heap. The springs on the chair groaned a tune of protest.
The sound of an animal in pain caught his attention. As though moving through molasses, Guy turned to look over his shoulder.
Agave stood rooted to the same spot as when Caroline had walked out the door. Streams of tear
