Cadence Amanda Sousa had a knot of anxiety in hir chest so tight ze struggled to breathe. Ze ran a cold finger over the scratched side of hir snare stick. The other percussionists were moving about, setting music down on their stands and making sure all the instruments and such were there. Cadence knew ze should be doing that too, but ze was frozen in place. Ze was at the back of the stage, but ze could still feel the hum and ebb of the beating, murmuring, anticipating crowd beyond. Glares were burning holes in hir skull. Whispers were darting down hir throat and blocking air from entering hir lungs. The world was quiet and loud and unbearable.

Morgan John Welch was bouncing their foot quickly and mindlessly pressing the valves of his trumpet. To them, the crowd was not a sea. It was not a beast to be feared. It was an obstacle that obscured a single person, and she was the only thing that mattered. She would be the only one who cared if Morgan refused to play for the rest of the night, or if he played with all the skill of Miles Davis and beyond. The ultra-focus of their anxieties, plotted on a single point on an endless map, forced him under a kind of pressure he had never known. And the more they focused on it, the more it grew.

Kevin Marcus O'Neil licked his lips and squinted at the crowd of kids in the giant group up on stage. The anxiety he felt for his child was bigger than the worries he had for himself. Kevin would be proud of them no matter what happened, but he wanted so badly for them to feel good about themselves. Nothing broke him more than seeing them struggle and having nothing to do to help. The sorry, scary truth was that Kevin's child was not some sort of prodigy or naturally talented musician. They just wanted to play and do it well, but their failing confidence frightened Kevin more than the things that attacked them from the outside- the biggest monster was within.

Valeria Rose Barragán Farrow was thinking about her sister's concert as she kicked a football into the goal again and again in the empty stadium. Val loved her sister, but she had been consumed by her desire to be more than the one girl on the football team- she wanted to be the best, and to be recognized as good rather than different, she had to commit everything that was left inside of her to the sport. There were no compromises and no giving up. There was no complaining and no rest. There was no time to watch her sister in the band. There was only a dream- an obsession- that put Val in a state of something that wasn't far from agony.

Emily Melissa Freeman had allowed herself to be consumed by fear until her mind knew nothing but. Everything horrible that could happen was getting more real to her in her mind, and not in a thousand failed scenarios- it was one hellish disaster of a night, until it became the only truth to the matter. She was the conductor, the leader, the one everyone was expecting the most from, whether they knew it or not. The show wouldn't happen unless she could do what everyone assumed she could; but for a sliver of a second, she was certain in her failure, and that glimmering fraction of a moment could become fatal.

Carry the burdens, all, carry the songs. Sing and cry and dance in the rain and thunder that shouts over your parade, because in your classroom there are Cadences and Morgans and Vals and in your communities are Kevins and Emilys. Carry the burdens, all, carry the songs. They do. They march on. Their night ended in a noisy silence and an anxious peace. The world is nothing if not everything. And to everything, there is a rhythm. You can march or hum or dance or whatever you may please, so long as you have the hope to follow along. Carry the burdens, all, carry the songs- we are life, we are hardship, we are music, we are love.

Carlos stood alone in the ashy, muddy field full of dead, yellowish-green grass. Bleak grey blanket-clouds loomed ominously, creeping across the sky.

It was raining again.

He stared ahead. This was where that huge, formerly glorious grand mansion stood, now torn by tongues of flame at his feet. His eyes trailed down to the small, worn photo in his hands.

It was just months ago that everything had been normal.

The lively chatter and clatter of so many people in a warmly-lit house, music streaming from his mother's prize piano. Steaming food and amazing aromas wafting through the rooms, with dogs barking and children running around their parents' feet. The pitter-patter of rain against the window that only he could hear from his cozy spot near the window as he fondly watched the chaos of his home.

That all seemed so far away now. 

His eyes blurred, but he didn't he didn't reach up to wipe the tears away. He didn't bother to stifle the broken sob that tore from his throat either. He felt so small and alone and still somehow too large to belong here.

The soft swish of overgrown grass melded with the light pizzicato of rain in a bitter melody when Carlos lifted his head, upturned, to the sky. The tears were indistinguishable from the rain now.

Suddenly, a fierce gale whipped up, tearing at his soaked, baggy clothes and ravishing his unkempt hair. He could swear that he heard that tragic last song in the air. How? He didn't bother to think about it too hard. Just leaning into the caress of the harsh wind and lightly humming along was good enough for now.

His eyes cracked open as the tune sharpened.

But alas, all too soon, it was over. The rain, which had been coming down in unsteady sheets, stopped. The meadow screeched to a silent still. And even the trees in the distance and crawling clouds seemed to freeze; hanging, expectant. Like they were waiting for the last climactic note.

But there was no last note. 

Carlos knew, from the day he had been left with nothing, that there would never be a last note.

He sighed, turning to leave. He couldn't dwell on this forever. He had to move on.

Just then, a faint thrumbing stirred the hair.

Thunder? 

No, it was too soft; too harmonious. Carlos' eyes flew to the rubble and burnt-out frame, scanning the charred trees behind it for a sign of life, desperate.

It couldn't be...

He stepped closer, it was her! That was her song! How was that possible?

His feet carried him closer, as if in a daze. The rain-dust mist parted, shifting shut behind him, and only leaving a trace of gentle music lilting on the breeze.

Carlos had always loved that music. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Geez, apparently I am an angst-machine. Sorry, next time I promise things will be brighter. Probably. 

I think SNS said she was leaving temporary right