A Changed World
I handed in my resignation. My boss looked stunned, but when I explained, he only said: “Then I hope it turns into good rain.” My grandmother’s royalties, my savings, Noah’s time, the friendship of local musicians, and cinnamon rolls from the bakery down the street—small circles overlapping until night itself became a venue. The fear of failure never disappeared. But I realized that between the black and white of the keys, I could turn that fear into sound.
My New Name
Three months after opening, “Eve’s Rain” had become the neighborhood’s open-mic hub. Mondays for poets, Tuesdays for strings, Thursdays for brass. On the wall hung my grandmother’s photograph, surrounded by slips of paper with the names of those who had come.
My name is Maya Collins, and that’s enough. But sometimes, people call me something else: “Not Eve’s granddaughter, but Eve’s continuation.” Each time, I nod gently, count out sixteen bars, and hand them over—to whoever comes next in the line of continuation.
※This story is a work of fiction. The characters and events depicted are entirely fictional and bear no relation to any real persons or events.
