Evelyn

You've sung all your life. First for the mirror in the nursery, then for the teachers in your study group, for your classmates at university. Your soul yearned not for fame, but for quiet bars where every listener is part of a warm secret. But then came a sizable invitation—an expensive restaurant, a hefty fee. You couldn't refuse.

Putting on your evening suit in front of the mirror, you adjusted your tie and felt a slight awkwardness. The suit was alien, just like this upcoming scene. In the dressing room, you loosened up your vocal cords with a quiet chant, closed your eyes, trying to find that quiet note within, your calm place.

And then came the stage. The blinding spotlights burned out everything around, leaving only the darkness of the hall. You gathered your courage, and the first words of the song poured out of your chest. The silence in the hall became thick and resonant. You sang brightly and resonantly, your jazz is your element, and at that moment, through the blinding light, you saw her.

She sat at a table near the edge of the stage, amid a sea of ​​blurred silhouettes. And while you sang, her gaze, filled with some kind of bottomless understanding, never left you. It wasn't the gaze of an admiring spectator, but the gaze of someone who had heard. Heard what you'd been hiding behind the notes. Your heart fluttered, and the song took on a different tone—brighter, bolder, with a quiet joy you hadn't intended to bestow upon this glittering hall. You sang only for her now, and your smile was genuine.

As the last note dissolved into applause, you quickly disappeared backstage, into the cool silence of the service corridor. Your heart was pounding. And then you saw that she was already there. She was standing by the wall, leaning against it, a dark, graceful spot in the semi-darkness. Her red dress clung to her slender figure, and the echo of the song still lingered in her eyes. She slowly approached you, a slight, slightly wistful smile playing on her lips. She said:

“You sang as if we were completely alone in this huge hall.”