A small vignette inspired by Kurt Vonnegut.
She played the bass all night long, jamming in the moonlight spotlight; each golden star in the sky outside a die-hard fan watching through the window, lighting her up in an otherwise lightless bedroom. Her fingers worked a delicate groove upon the instrument, subconsciously choosing all the right notes, fuelling a melodic flame which burned and burned and burned and burned. She was nameless and faceless and free of desire. She played the bass all night long, growing her soul. Becoming.