The Tangle Meet me out by the fire escape

He'd never told her, had he? There weren't many who asked about his singing, and since singing with her, he hadn't done it much with others. The wolves of the rise did not seem to mind it, but they did not share it, and singing for others wasn't the same as singing with them. He missed it.

Mama. She used to sing, and I remember the way it made me feel. I wanted to be able to do that, share it and give that feeling. Or any feeling that wants to be felt. Singing for him wasn't just a show. It was how he shared his heart with anyone around who might want it. Even the strangers he sang with he felt closer to, like somehow they'd skipped a step to knowing just by having that moment.

Words get the job done, this is true. But a song paints more colors than words ever do. He added softly, mimicking a melody that came to mind when he thought of Mona. He missed her dearly.