Cosmic Ruler

Elowen and Yemra had climbed the Tower of Refrains, where threads of all past songs hung freely.

Wind moved through them like breath through a flute.

"Do you hear it?" Elowen whispered.

Yemra closed her eyes.

"It’s not a song," she said. "It’s what comes before the song."

The tower exhaled.

And the air hummed with something older than melody:

Possibility.

In Shelter-for-All, a baby was born who did not cry.

She breathed.

Her first inhale pulled warmth from every corner of the room.