Marbles on Glass

23. Exception

As much as she hates them, music is another matter entirely.

The rest, she can do without. She leaves it behind. Instead, she keeps weaving tunes in the threads of the place.

The notes fall down with the debris, to the bottomless void outside the chambers. In harmonic scales, through the cables, she sings on.

She refuses to ever stop. She needs this, whenever the storm howls inside her — because, despite herself, it still does.

She never changes her mind once, throughout the decades. She keeps music close.

After all, it was the one human thing that kept her sane.