It was close enough to the show date (within two months) that the cast had been moved to the theater for rehearsals. Of course, there were off days where the company had to revert back to the original rehearsal space.

Christian relished in being in yet another theater he’d never visited before. It was ginormous, and beautiful. He arrived early with coffee and toured the different areas of the building. He was impressed, and frankly excited for such a large audience (provided that many people showed up).

As he walked down the hallway, Christian picked up on the sounds of music. Not singing, or prerecorded music, but a lone instrument and its haunting wails drifting through the large and mostly-empty building. He recognized a moment later that the song was from the show. He figured one of the orchestra members had also come a little early just to practice.

Man, that sound… it was so beautiful. He was captivated, gravitating down the hallway towards the open room. He stood right outside the doorway and listened. Then, after a moment, peeked in.

He studied you. Your eyes were closed, your face contorting into a thousand different expressions as if you physically felt the music you were playing. Your fingers moved deftly, your posture the envy of all, your soft humming every now and then getting to him.

But then to his horror, your eyes open, and you both flinch as you recognize you’re staring at each other.

“I’m sorry!” Christian nearly shouts, holding out a placating hand even though he’s at least six feet away from you. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t been here long, I promise. It’s just the music intrigued me and… well…”

He releases a breathy laugh, his trademark of nervousness, but with a hint of astonishment at your talent. “You’re really, really good. You’re one of the orchestra musicians, right?”