Cadence smiled at his answer to her question, somehow not surprised this was the door he had picked. Songwriters would be drawn to this room simply through the use of written word as visual artists would be to the canvas. They arrived in the room and Cadence's smiled widened at the clutter. In a strange way, there was still a sort of order to it - an organized mess that just fit the more creative types that would be drawn to the Nest. One of her professors had told her "the more disorganized the desk is, the more organized the mind is." There was some truth to that.
Ezvin seemed drawn towards one of the stacks and she looked at him with curiosity as he pulled out the zine with the red ribbon. Her curiosity piqued at his mention when he had written it and why. She had wondered what he had gone through that night, but she didn't ask even if her eyes asked the question. Now didn't seem the moment to ask, or maybe it was Ezvin's choice to tell her more or not. It was even possible the answer lie in the pages that he offered to her. She took it from Ezvin when he offered it with a slightly trembling hand. She looked at the cover, but didn't open it yet.
Cadence took what he said and let it simmer, coming to an understanding of what he meant. Ezvin was a free spirit - one who didn't want to settle down. It was something different from the norm, but it didn't bother Cadence. Ezvin's romantic life was his own, and as long as he was happy with it, she was happy for him, and he didn't seem apologetic about it. He was just aware of who he was and what he wanted. It was honest. Cadence found herself more curious about the man she was with.
"Well, sometimes the most dramatic words are the most important," she spoke for the first time since her question with a smirk.
Finally she was given the time to work and Ezvin gave her the space to do it. She removed her coat and placed it over his before pulling out a few sheets of paper and beginning to feed the first into a typewriter. Then she paused. Something didn't seem right. She put the paper down on the table and stood going back to her coat. She rifled through her pockets until she found what she was looking for. It was a habit of musicians to always have something to write with. In her coat pockets she almost always had a few pencils and pens. She found one and then sat back down at the table.
Cadence didn't pause before she started writing. The feeling that something was wrong was gone. She needed to write this and she didn't know why, but she was following her instinct. The first words had formed in her mind.
I took a single step and then found I couldn't stop walking
I no longer wish to just survive. I wish to thrive.
Is this what freedom feels like?
She paused in her writing and looked up in thought, eyes really not focused on anything as she spoke the question aloud. "Is this what freedom feels like?"
Cadence turned to another page and began to write, the words coming out of her like an avalanche. It was her story - the story of a frightened, traumatized girl that became a frightened, traumatized woman who was chained to her past. As that woman grew, she learned that it wasn't forgetting her trauma that unbound her; it was embracing it. The words came out in a more poetic form rather than standard prose.
Cadence wasn't aware that tears had come to her eyes until a drop fell onto her page, smearing some of the words that she had written. She was unapologetic in her tears, and didn't do anything to correct it. The words were smeared, but still legible, and the tears made the whole thing feel more real and honest. They were not the tears of sadness or fear, but the tears of release, and she let them continue as she wrote.
Cadence's words filled a few pages. She took the first page she wrote and used it as a cover. She bound it with a purple ribbon and then stood. She unapologetically wiped her eyes and walked over to Ezvin. She gave him a smile as she offered it to him with no expectations.
Ezvin seemed drawn towards one of the stacks and she looked at him with curiosity as he pulled out the zine with the red ribbon. Her curiosity piqued at his mention when he had written it and why. She had wondered what he had gone through that night, but she didn't ask even if her eyes asked the question. Now didn't seem the moment to ask, or maybe it was Ezvin's choice to tell her more or not. It was even possible the answer lie in the pages that he offered to her. She took it from Ezvin when he offered it with a slightly trembling hand. She looked at the cover, but didn't open it yet.
Cadence took what he said and let it simmer, coming to an understanding of what he meant. Ezvin was a free spirit - one who didn't want to settle down. It was something different from the norm, but it didn't bother Cadence. Ezvin's romantic life was his own, and as long as he was happy with it, she was happy for him, and he didn't seem apologetic about it. He was just aware of who he was and what he wanted. It was honest. Cadence found herself more curious about the man she was with.
"Well, sometimes the most dramatic words are the most important," she spoke for the first time since her question with a smirk.
Finally she was given the time to work and Ezvin gave her the space to do it. She removed her coat and placed it over his before pulling out a few sheets of paper and beginning to feed the first into a typewriter. Then she paused. Something didn't seem right. She put the paper down on the table and stood going back to her coat. She rifled through her pockets until she found what she was looking for. It was a habit of musicians to always have something to write with. In her coat pockets she almost always had a few pencils and pens. She found one and then sat back down at the table.
Cadence didn't pause before she started writing. The feeling that something was wrong was gone. She needed to write this and she didn't know why, but she was following her instinct. The first words had formed in her mind.
I took a single step and then found I couldn't stop walking
I no longer wish to just survive. I wish to thrive.
Is this what freedom feels like?
She paused in her writing and looked up in thought, eyes really not focused on anything as she spoke the question aloud. "Is this what freedom feels like?"
Cadence turned to another page and began to write, the words coming out of her like an avalanche. It was her story - the story of a frightened, traumatized girl that became a frightened, traumatized woman who was chained to her past. As that woman grew, she learned that it wasn't forgetting her trauma that unbound her; it was embracing it. The words came out in a more poetic form rather than standard prose.
Cadence wasn't aware that tears had come to her eyes until a drop fell onto her page, smearing some of the words that she had written. She was unapologetic in her tears, and didn't do anything to correct it. The words were smeared, but still legible, and the tears made the whole thing feel more real and honest. They were not the tears of sadness or fear, but the tears of release, and she let them continue as she wrote.
Cadence's words filled a few pages. She took the first page she wrote and used it as a cover. She bound it with a purple ribbon and then stood. She unapologetically wiped her eyes and walked over to Ezvin. She gave him a smile as she offered it to him with no expectations.