• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 11
Image by

The After Years

It began in the afternoon, and afterwards the air
developed an aftertaste.

Like a fever, its aftereffects created unsettling
afterimages, though the notion of music

mellowed many survivors. Some attended
her performances, while others avoided them,

tossing cellos and other string instruments
into the wreckage. During her concerts,

no voices were heard, just the soothing tones
of her harp as respirators pumped oxygen,

a comforting afterthought after all, especially after
the aftermath.