• A sigh ran collectively through a silent crowd at their entertainment for the night. It was a small club, not high class but not a place for non-members to go. Every Friday was their concert night, and the woman up on the stage never failed to amaze her audience. Such a voice. Such a beautiful thing.
    A smile danced across the woman’s face, her auburn half-curls falling to her shoulder in elegant waves, her normally pale green eyes were closed as her voice poured out. Her gift. She was not shy to admit she had a good voice, that her singing enchanted audiences, but she was also not a flaunter. She knew her gifts, and left people to decide what they would about it. A purple dress fell down her form, hugging her curves in all the proper ways, but no one paid heed to her physical characteristics, charming as they could be in the right attire. No, it was her voice that poured out.
    At the moment, the foreign tongue of Italy fell from her lips in a soft love song, her voice catching the proper highs and lows with a beauty that could astonish a true Italian. The foreign syllables fell as if she had been raised to the language, but she was not from there. It was a beautiful piece she’d found translated.
    In a time that seemed far too short, silence fell as the crowd took in the fading notes of her voice. In moments again, wild cheers echoed around the solid wood, and her hair fell as she took her bow, sweeping into an elegant bow.
    In an hour, she’d be back to being a mom, a nurse, a loving wife, a doting sister. But for now, she was the entertainment none could tire of, and a rose fell to the stage before her as she gracefully took it up and walked slowly off.