People's souls sing different songs, each a different tune of forlorn longing.

Hers was a desperation for a better future, his a desperation for an escape from his past, but both together spoke of a sublime balance that had no need of a scale.

They balanced each other better than any others who crossed their paths; completed each other when everything else was incomplete.

Just like his song.

He'd been at work on it every morning for the past week, but could get past the first line for every time he tried to write on, it always stopped with "you."