chapter one » the first chord

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chapter one:


'The First Chord'


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The coffee shop was quiet tonight, except for the soft hum of the espresso machine and the low murmur of a few late-night customers. Quills had a cozy, almost timeless vibe, making it easy to forget the world outside. The flickering fire in the corner offered warmth against the November cold, and the scent of roasted beans filled the air. A small crowd had gathered for the café's usual Friday open-mic night, an event that invited anyone to get up on stage and share their talents. Tonight, the stage was set for poets, singers, and musicians. The atmosphere was relaxed, with no pressure to impress.

Mia wasn't in the mood for any of it. She wiped down the counter, watching the rag leave faint streaks against the wood. She hadn't planned to work tonight. She was supposed to be performing with an orchestra—an opportunity she'd dreamed of for months. But the conductor had called, just hours before, to say another violinist was taking her place. No explanation, no apology—just a cold, impersonal phone call.

Instead of dealing with the disappointment, she'd called the café and picked up a last-minute shift. It was easier than sitting alone in her apartment, stewing in the frustration. Rejection had become a familiar thing. 

Her hair, a muted dirty blonde, fell in loose waves past her shoulders. Her blue eyes—usually bright and observant—looked dull, weighed down by the exhaustion that seemed to pull at her. The faintest hint of redness lingered under them. Her skin, pale, seemed almost translucent in the café's dim light, and her white button-up hung loosely on her frame. 

She glanced up at the soft chime of the doorbell, and a customer appeared, approaching the counter. The woman who walked in was tall, with brown hair, wearing a leather jacket, and a pair of vintage sunglasses that she pushed up into her hair the moment she stepped inside. She had a quiet, confident air about her, the kind of presence that didn't demand attention but somehow still got it. Mia greeted her automatically, her smile a little forced as she took the woman's order.

"Hello. What can I get for you?" Mia asked, her voice slightly flat.

"Hi, can I get a cappuccino, please," the woman replied with a warm smile.

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