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// Smiles Staged in Photographs 
// Story: The Light and the Glass 
// by Somber Concerto 
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The walk back somehow felt even longer, though by this point the quiet had faded. It was replaced by the occasional whirring of a car passing by, much faster than it should have been on a small rural road. Upon arriving, she sighed in disdain for this wretched building. Climbing back up the stairs, she typed in the keycode and made her way up to the 4th floor, where she now resided in a small cramped apartment. Going through a few semi-unpacked boxes, she finally found what she was looking for. Rubbing her aching legs and cursing the lack of a working elevator, she sat down at her desk and flipped open the thick book. Inside held not words, but pictures. Memories of her and Vinyl she had made. It was supposed to be an anniversary gift to her beloved. If only she had known...

She reminded herself she couldn't have known, flipping through to find her favorite one. It took up an entire page. Taken from a beach, the sun setting behind them as they sat on the rocks, drinking wine. If she had known she never would have indulged, nor allowed Vinyl that privilege. Looking closer at the photograph, she noticed her smile was off. Forced almost? Had she been unhappy? Or just drunk?

Octavia shut the book and put it back in the box, where she intended to leave it for a very, very long time. She pulled out her notebook, worn and beaten, yet the stained leather still managed to look elegant. Flipping open to the nearest blank page, she pulled out a pen and began to write a symphony. Sad and haunting, yet beautiful. Bittersweet and full of memories. Sounding old as time, yet still clear and bold. It was the one she had heard in her old room. 

Once she had finished her final adjustments to the piece, she picked up her cello, positioning it right. Bow firmly in hand, she began to play. After just a few tries, she was able to play through the melody. After final revisions, she began to play a loop. Over and over again she played, and as she played she cried. Oh, how she cried. She sobbed, just loud enough to barely hear it over the instrument. As the neighbors banged on the wall, cussing her out to stop, she merely played faster and cried louder. Stuck in her own head as the fading light shined through the dirty glass window.

That would be the most beloved symphony she ever wrote.





Despite her following rocket to fame as a musician, she never moved back to the old house. She found a nice home in a new town, but never again love. At her shows, she always ended with that one piece, and every day was haunted by her own grief until it finally proved to be too much. At the young age of 34, she took her own life via poisoned alcohol and went down in history as one of the most talented cello players in the world. Her greatest song would be played for decades and even centuries to come.