54
Lillian
Sasha was letting me know as bandleader before trying something, giving me a chance to tell them the obvious: it won’t work.
But Sasha said it like it was a fact, and I believed them.
They stood at the edge of the stage with a finger against their lips, their other hand with its palm flat to the floor. It took a few seconds, just long enough that I started to doubt it. A few laughs, loud voices coming from corners of the room. Sasha turned toward each sound and it fell silent. I’ve never heard the Pilgrim like that.
Sasha drifted toward side stage, giving me the floor. When I started the song with my best and hardest guitar part, it had a different impact than ever before. Volume crashing straight into the silence.
And yet that’s not the moment that’s still reverberating in my chest. At the front of the stage, I saw a command radiate from Sasha. An infectious joy that the crowd picked up on. It said, listen to me, and we’ll make something together.
So I fell in love with them.
And I desired them.