But as he walked toward the subway, he started humming. The beat was already in his head, downloaded into his bones, produced by Ash Ley, and finished by the cold, midnight air.
"You buying more coffee or just stealing the Wi-Fi?" the waitress asked, leaning over the counter. "Just one second," Elias whispered.
85%. The laptop fan whirred like a jet engine. He clicked the green button just as the screen went black. The battery died.
Silence rushed back into his ears, louder than the diner's hum. He closed the laptop and walked out into the drizzle. He didn't know if the file had finished. He didn't know if his song would ever be heard.
Elias needed that track. He needed it for the verse he had been writing since Sarah left—the words that were stuck in his throat, waiting for the right vibration to shake them loose.
