Camila Slater hurriedly left the subway station, having just endured an absolutely dreadful day.
In the morning, her father called to say he went to the hospital because of blurred vision, only to discover a tumor in his brain. It was unclear whether it was benign or malignant, and they had to wait for further tests. He admitted he was a bit scared.
At lunch, she caught her boyfriend passionately kissing her best friend. Not only did she lose love, but she also lost friendship. It made her question herself—was it her fault? Was she not good enough, leading both love and friendship to betray her?
In the afternoon, she made two mistakes at work due to her distracted mind, then spent three hours fixing them. Although she managed to prevent any serious consequences, she was disappointed in her lack of responsibility and ended up arguing with her immediate supervisor.
She didn't like herself.
Everyone seems to have days like that, days where, without any real reason or warning, you start to loathe yourself and question your life.
Today was one of those days.
She needed some space to breathe. Leaving the office, she wandered aimlessly through the city, trying to find some light amid the exhaustion and numbness of adult life.
But it wasn't easy. The city was full of lifeless adults, each one a wounded soul.
Even in Paris, it was the same.
However.
Camila's steps faltered as she realized her mind kept circling back to the street performance she had seen at the subway station. The melodies, the smiles, the youthful energy lingered in her heart.
Even several hundred meters away from the station, she still found herself humming along. Closing her eyes, the images became vivid again.
Originally, she thought it was just a random street performance she happened to pass by, something she'd pause for briefly before continuing with her life.
But now, Camila realized that those ten minutes might have been the only joyful moments in her entire day. For a short while, she forgot her troubles, her pain, and the unrelenting grind of life. Not only did she smile, but she couldn't resist dancing along with the music.
She looked down and pulled a record from her canvas bag, studying it closely. Unable to help herself, she turned around and walked back as if in a trance.
To be honest, Camila didn't know why she was going back. Was it to ask for an autograph? Or just to enjoy another street performance in the subway tunnel?
But she simply wanted to return.
An impulse—and Camila followed it.
Her hurried steps quickened until she was almost running. Just as she was about to turn into the subway station, she stopped abruptly at the exit, turning her head toward a bustling café on the corner. She hadn't even had a chance to take in the scene fully before her heart felt something.
Simple. Unpretentious. Pure. Everything was about the music—just the music.
In an instant, she could see the joy in their smiles and the happiness dancing between the notes.
"I'm trying to do the right thing. Roar!"
"I've been living a lonely life. Hey!"
"I've been sleeping on one side of the bed. Roar!"
It was... something magical.
The lead singer crooned softly while the other three members shouted out the simplest of refrains—one "Roar!" here, a "Hey!" there—woven effortlessly into the melody. Though their instruments were basic, the shouts felt like a part of the music, almost like an a cappella arrangement.
The singing, a bit weathered, felt like the voice of a wanderer.
The shouts, passionate and powerful, echoed through valleys and deserts.
The grandeur and unpredictability of life, the bumps and hardships of living, spread subtly through the words.
"I've been sleeping in my bed. Hey!"
"I've been sleeping in my bed. Roar! Hey!"
That loneliness, that melancholy, that confusion… it all spilled out unintentionally, but without overwhelming you, without making it feel bitter. Instead, there was a certain carefree ease to it.
Without realizing it, Camila moved closer, as if drawn by a black hole, inch by inch, until she stood across the street from the café, silently watching. Her eyes lingered on their faces, devouring the smiles and brightness.
Mournful but not tragic. Bitter but not harsh.
Lonely, perhaps. Lost, maybe. But never without hope.
Thud, thud.
Camila's heartbeat synced with the rhythm, and every cell in her body seemed to feel the music's lightness and grace, pulling her in.
The performance at the subway station had easily caught her ear. But now, the melodies and notes gripped her heart.
"Roar! Roar! Hey!"
"So tell me, what is family? I'd trade all my blood for it. I don't know where I belong, I don't know where I went wrong…"
Camila was hooked.
Though the performance had a breezy, carefree quality, the sadness in the music struck her right in the heart.
That was her. That was exactly her. Her confusion, her fear, her sorrow, her helplessness—everything overwhelmed her.
And what about the answer?
"But I can write this song."
A pause. The lead singer, Anson, looked up at the band members.
Lily stood up. Miles stood up. Connor stood up. They all stopped playing and raised their hands, clapping to the beat.
Clap. Clap.
Only Anson remained seated, his fingers dancing across the guitar strings. The melody was joyful, clear, like a bubbling stream rushing down, its soft notes flowing through rays of sunlight, embracing the world's greenery and warmth.
The setting sun lazily kissed the skin, its gentle warmth melting both heart and body in the glow.
Even in loneliness, there's a song to sing.
Even in sorrow, there's a dance to be had.
Because life's rhythm never stops. Never.
"I belong to you. You belong to me. You're my sweetheart."
"I belong to you. You belong to me. You're my honey."
Light, joyful, dancing.
A smile blossomed in the twilight.
"Roar! Hey!"
"Roar! Hey!"
Lily was laughing. Connor and Miles were laughing, too.
Their gazes met, full of smiles. Clapping and cheering, they started to dance, moving with the rhythm before they even realized it.
No rehearsal. No agreement. Pure spontaneity. Connor was the first to step out, dancing the simplest moves to the basic rhythm.
A bit clumsy.
But oddly, each of Connor's steps landed perfectly on beat, his footsteps and the claps blending into another layer of music.
Lily and Miles were laughing so hard they could barely stand.
Then Connor extended an invitation.
Miles shook his head in mock disdain, but Lily didn't mind. She joined Connor, twirling like a ballerina.
Of course, it wasn't professional or impressive.
But Lily's skirt spun, glowing in the fading light, flowing like a gentle stream.
It had nothing to do with anyone else. It was just a celebration between four young souls.