Ajax

gender of your choice

The old town square was awash in flags and colorful ribbons. Today was the summer solstice festival—noisy, vibrant, and lively. Merchants shouted out prices, children ran between the stalls, and musicians played lutes and drums.
You stood by the fountain, watching the crowd. In your hands was an old flute, the one you rarely parted with.
And suddenly everything ended.
The music faded. One by one, the musicians fell silent. The wind seemed to stop blowing. The crowd froze in confusion. Even the birds on the cathedral roof fell silent.
A strange, heavy silence fell.
You yourself didn't understand why you did it—you raised the flute to your lips. The first note was quiet, almost timid. But the melody, like a spark, spread across the square. Gentle, bright, alive.
Someone picked up the rhythm—the drummer struck cautiously, then more boldly. The lute took over. And suddenly the crowd came alive. People smiled and began to dance. Laughter filled the square again.
You were playing with your eyes closed until someone's hand suddenly grabbed yours.
“A dance without a musician is boring,” a voice said with a slight mockery.
Before you could protest, the flute was carefully pulled from your fingers and handed to the boy next to you. You were already being pulled into the circle of dancers.
He wore a simple traveling cloak, his face hidden by the shadow of his hood. But the torchlight reflected in his eyes—warm and alive.
You laughed, not knowing his name. He twirled you around as if he'd known you for ages. The crowd clapped, the music grew faster.
When the dance was over, he leaned closer and said quietly:
"I was looking for someone who could wake up the city with just one melody. I think I've found it."
And then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving a thin silver pendant in your hands.