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The bow lightly grazed the strings, fingertips and wrists sensing that shivering vibration, like a sorrowful lant. Blue notes gently flowed out, swirling around his ankles, with a biting cold slowly seeping through his toes into his skin.
*Zing.*
Miles Anderson abruptly pressed down on the strings, rudely interrupting the performance. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but his thoughts were still a tangled ss.
Leaving the band, leaving rock/pop music—it wasn't sothing Miles needed to worry about for the future. He could always return to classical music, continuing to play his cello as he had before. Here, he was still the young, promising prodigy, with endless possibilities ahead.
And yet.
Miles couldn't seem to find peace. He no longer felt the excitent and passion that once drove him to join the band and infuse classical elents into pop music. Life had returned to normal, but it was a life where he could see everything ahead of him, devoid of warmth and color.
Without realizing it, Miles often found himself lost in thought, his mind completely blank.
"Miles, you can't seem to settle down. Your playing is noisy, restless. You need to adjust."
"What's going on? Has sothing happened in your life recently? You can't perform on stage in this state."
A concerned voice from a mber of the classical ensemble broke through his thoughts.
Miles didn't know how to respond.
Luckily, soone interrupted the rehearsal, offering a temporary escape from his predicant. "Miles, your phone has been vibrating in your coat pocket. I'm not sure, but I think it's rung at least three tis. Are you sure everything's okay?"
Miles blinked and forced a smile. "Sorry, I'll check it."
He stood up and almost fled the rehearsal room, quickly rushing outside. It was only when he reached the open air that he felt like he could breathe again. After a brief pause to collect himself, Miles headed toward the lounge.
The band he'd ford with Lily Watkins and Connor Jenks hadn't survived in the end.
In truth, they had "stolen" an extra year—
That afternoon, they stood on a Manhattan street, playing "Wake Up" with a stranger.
It was like sothing out of *Alice in Wonderland*, so magical and surreal that they couldn't help but question its reality. The stranger had turned and disappeared into the crowd as if they'd never existed, leaving them wondering if it had all been a dream.
But the miracle happened.
Thanks to "Wake Up," their band got another chance to perform. They regained their confidence, inspired by the song.
Originally, they had been on the verge of collapse, with giving up seeming like the only option. But "Wake Up" gave their band a lifeline, a glimr of hope.
For a whole year.
But a year wasn't enough. In the end, they still went their separate ways—
Miles returned to the classical ensemble, and the ti spent wandering with the band seed like a brief escape in his long life.
Lily beca a backup singer and musician, not creating or performing in the spotlight, but joining a small group that provided background music for weddings, birthdays, and coming-of-age ceremonies. It was a life they'd once scoffed at, but at least she had work and inco to survive.
And Connor?
Miles hadn't heard from him in a long, long ti. The last he'd heard, Connor had returned to his hotown of Kansas City, but what he was doing there remained a mystery.
They were like dandelions, scattered to the winds, drifting apart to different corners of the world.
…
"Connor... Connor! The phone. Line three."
From a distance, a voice called out. Connor Jenks stood at the checkout line, helping custors scan and bag their purchases. One by one, he packed the items into plastic bags.
This was a large supermarket that sold everything, so custors often had extensive shopping lists. Bagging required separating items, at least distinguishing between food and other goods.
Even after three months of working at the supermarket, Connor sotis still seed a bit clumsy, occasionally mixing up the bags.
So he needed to stay focused and not get distracted.
Even when he heard his na, Connor didn't respond, concentrating instead on finishing the bagging before flashing the custor a polite smile.
"Have a great day."
After the custor left, Connor gestured for the next person to wait a mont before picking up the phone hanging by the register and pressing the number three.
"Hello, this is Connor Jenks."
"Oh, hey, Mr. Jenks, this is the team from *The Tonight Show*. We're calling to confirm..."
"What?" Connor frowned. "*The Tonight Show*? Co on, Robert, this joke isn't funny at all."
"Uh, Mr. Jenks, this really is *The Tonight Show* team. We called your ho, and your mother answered. She told us you were at work."
"Ha. Ha. Robert, very clever, but you're not fooling . *The Tonight Show*? Seriously? If you'd said the Kansas City Chiefs wanted to sing the national anthem, that might be a little more believable. Nice try, Robert, but I'm really busy right now. We'll talk later."
Without waiting for a response, Connor hung up the phone.
Connor was trying to adapt to his current life.
He kept telling himself not to dream, not to chase impossible fantasies. He had tried, he had fought, but in the end, he had failed. It was ti to accept that with grace.
There was no need for self-pity, and he shouldn't wallow in sadness. Life would go on, and he needed to face it practically, living honestly.
At least he had a steady inco now, even if it was from a supermarket job. He was living in his parents' basent, rent-free, but he couldn't just freeload. He had to stop indulging in unrealistic dreams.
No ti to be sentintal, Connor put on a smile and welcod the next custor.
But before long, the store manager called him again.
"Connor, line one."
Connor hesitated, feeling a bit frustrated. What was up with his friends today, pranking him nonstop?
"It's soone nad Miles Anderson. He says it's urgent."
Connor froze.
Miles Anderson?
He hadn't heard that na in so long—four months? Six months? It felt like it had been in another lifeti.
But what could Miles want with him?
Connor was dazed, unable to sort out his emotions. He muttered an apology to the custor and picked up the phone.
"Hey. Hey... Miles."
"Connor, Connor, we're going to *The Tonight Show*!"
Connor: ??? "Robert, this isn't funny."
"Connor? It's , Miles. *The Tonight Show* just called—they've invited us on the show. Didn't they call you?"
Connor was stunned. His heart clenched, and his knees buckled as he sank to the floor. He was completely overwheld, as if all his senses had shut down.
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