A 100-word chapter of a 1,000 word story.
Strains of music welled constantly within his heart, but this was a newer new.
A song, not of things seen or felt or remembered or wished, but of things to be, of one he would come to know.
Yet he knew her now, more and more, as the music unfolded her, trilling more truth than could sight and time.
It was the tune of her, and the harmony of her love for him— the love she would have, once he sang her the melody of himself.
Trusting the prophecy of his own music, the minstrel rose and ran to search.
To be continued.