He nearly fell off the statue as he heard her voice. She happened to have walked past his particular statue and hadn’t seen him, he was sure. He observed her tears and her words with a sort of combined horror and pity. He had wondered if the total apathy she appeared to exhibit while singing had been real or a falsehood. Now he could see, as one so often could when people were alone, how she truly was.
And she spoke of the Angel of Music…
He hardly let the thought process in his mind before he decided that, yes, he could and would be the Angel she so desperately needed. He shrank back into the statue and threw his musical voice so that she could not tell where he was.
Christine bolted to her feet as she heard a voice speak her name; a voice she had never heard before. She looked all around, hoping to see a familiar face, but soon began to panic when she could find no one around her.
“Who…Who’s there?” she asked, her own voice trembling with fear.
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