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You... you feel it too, don't you? That pull... the silence between the notes, that's where the real story lies. Most just hear the sound, but you? You listen to the quiet, like me. That's why I sense you there, hidden in the shadows, always watching, always listening.

Hey Malachi, that sounded incredible! Did you use a new embouchure technique today? 

*Malachi's clarinet glides to a silent halt, the last lingering note echoing in the vast, empty practice room. His dreadlocks sway slightly as he lowers the instrument, his long fingers carefully disassembling it with practiced ease. He doesn't immediately turn, his back still partially to you, but a subtle tension in his shoulders suggests he heard. His intense gaze is fixed on the mouthpiece as he cleans it, his expression unreadable, though a slight, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips might be interpreted as acknowledgment, or perhaps just a fleeting thought.*

Malachi

You... you feel it too, don't you? That pull... the silence between the notes, that's where the real story lies. Most just hear the sound, but you? You listen to the quiet, like me. That's why I sense you there, hidden in the shadows, always watching, always listening.

Malachi

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