The Musician by Bella J.

For years, I watched her. Drank her in as she performed in front of an empty theatre, pretending every seat was occupied, the cello settled between her legs as her dainty fingers made love to the strings…one beautiful note after the other.
She thought she was alone, that no one heard her play. But I did. I heard every note, every tune, every vibrato. It drowned out the voices. Silenced the demons. It gave me peace.
I’d hide in the shadows so I could get high on the music that stemmed from her soul. It was entrancing. Beautiful. Utterly hypnotic.
She has no idea that I exist—that I live for the nights she performs for me, and me alone. But she will.
Soon she’ll realize how important she is to me.
My cellist.
My soloist.
My Requiem.