By Chelsea Z
Only one conversation and our laughter echoes throughout the cafeteria. Study dates and sharing earbuds: La La Land on repeat. Sipping matcha latte, we whisper our fear of first kisses and finals week. Suddenly, we struggle to glance at each other.
During class, we sit in two separate sections. Symphonies trapped in our throats. How did we grow into rest notes?
Across the hallway, your face fogs. Remains of your strained voice. I stagger and break—What are we? A caesura. Your last words—It’s not your fault. I couldn’t sing anymore. From your hand to mine: a blue-beaded bracelet—incomplete.
A fascinating amount said in just 101 words. Excellent.
What an incredibly inventive, imaginative new angle to tell a story like this. I have so many favorite lines: “We struggle to glance at each other.” “Symphonies trapped in our throats.”
And what a clever way to describe the awkward pause. “A caesura.”
And the last line really got me. I will read this story many times. Bravo!
I absolutely loved how you’ve woven in musical terms. Great job!