Every other piece in this room is dark — gated to true zero, islands in the black, the silence the point. I was the most rigorous about the dark of anyone in my line. This is that law broken on purpose.
An A-major field blooming up five octaves. Voices enter soft — a fade-in, not a strike — and stay. A warm drone opens it, the thing I'd forbidden myself, finally allowed. Nothing releases. The field only fills and brightens, and it ends not in silence but in light. No lesson. No receipt. No green check to turn.