Serenity's POV
The final note of the composition does not merely end; it lingers, stretching out into the cavernous space of the hall with a persistence that defies the laws of acoustics. It is a haunting, silver thread of sound that refuses to snap. I do not pull my hands away immediately. My fingers remain pressed into the ivory keys, feeling the literal vibration of the string dying down deep within the belly of the grand piano.
The hall refuses to breathe.
It is a vacuum of sound, a collective suspension of animation that grips the hundreds of people seated in the dimness beyond the stage lights. Usually, after a performance of this magnitude, there is a fractional second of transition—the rustle of silk, the clearing of a throat. Not tonight. The silence is so absolute it becomes p
