Behind her, the sat in a crescent moon of polished wood and gleaming brass. The air was thick with the scent of rosin and expensive perfume.
As she reached the bridge, the music bloomed into a cinematic sweep. It felt like falling through a cloud. She was telling the story of a girl who kept the door unlocked, knowing a thief was coming, just to feel the rush of someone entering the room. Behind her, the sat in a crescent moon
The final lyrics hung in the air: a quiet, devastating permission. “Let you break my heart again.” knowing a thief was coming