A Moment of Freedom

There was definitely something about Rio.

She could never figure it out. Maybe it was something in the air, or maybe in the water, but there was something about the sea-side city that always made playing a show here different from playing anywhere else.

Their concert was supposed to be over. The crowd was cheering. Her bandmate was already making his exit as he bowed and waved to the fans. The final notes from their last encore still hung in the air. She could still feel her guitar strings vibrating under her fingertips.

She didn't care.

She reached for her mic.

She closed her eyes.

She began to sing.

A hush slowly enveloped the sea of fans, as her unaccompanied voice drifted over the crowd like morning mist, strong and sad and solemn. After the long set, she still had perfect pitch; there wasn't a hint of a tired, wavering rasp in her spur-of-the-moment singing.

Somewhere in the back of the club, somebody started clapping to the rhythmn, which quickly caught on. Soon, the rest of the room joined in, with cheers and whistling punctuating the beat. Several voices rose from the crowd to sing along with her.

She kept her eyes shut and blocked out the noise.

She didn't care. She wasn't singing for them.

For once, she was being selfish. She was singing for herself and didn't care who was present to hear.

And for one very rare, very sweet moment...

...she was free...