Absolutely Not in Love (Sweater Weather, #7; Appies, #2)

by Jenny Proctor

The house lights are still up, and it’s nice to see the performance hall full. There is a lot of gray hair, something that always makes me a little sad—why don’t young people ever want to hear the symphony play?—but an audience is an audience, and I’m happy we have one. I’ll never get tired of the sound of an orchestra warming up, the cacophony of so many instruments tossing random notes into the air. It sounds like anticipation—like potential. I breathe out a happy sigh as the rest of my thoughts and worries fall away, and I revel in the peace that fills me every time I play. Moments later, the lights dim, and a hush falls over the room, the musicians quieting their instruments and the crowd silencing their chatter. The orchestra stands as our conductor makes her way onto the stage, and the audience fills the room with applause. And then we play.