“Will do.” I studiously train my eyes on Wright’s face, and do my best to ignore his taciturn friend.
The two men turn and take the few steps that lead them away from me and this extraordinary night. I’m about to join my friends and head toward the subway when I feel a light touch on my arm. I look up and shock rolls through me. Shock and a thrill. It’s Canon.
“Did you forget something?” I ask, my breath refusing to push in and out as per normal respiratory patterns.
“You were exceptional on that stage,” he says softly. “The best in the show.”
Vines sprout from the sidewalk and wrap around my ankles, trapping me where I stand. Immobile. I should say something, not just stand here like I’m starstruck, though there is a part of me that is.
“What you said tonight about making people feel when you perform,” he says, his eyes never straying from my face. “Keep that.”
And then he turns and walks away.