Meno Mosso

“Aw… I went through all the trouble of sneaking out, and now…” “A runaway?” Light brown hair obscured his vision to the point where one wondered if he could even see ahead. Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and baggy pants, wearing slippers on bare feet as if he didn't feel the cold, the boy looked exactly like a runaway. Yet, he was impossible to look away from. Furthermore, his humming was far from ordinary. “Excuse me, are you singing?” “Ah… does it sound like music to you?” “Yes. Isn't it music?” “No, you're right.” It was a brief but strange encounter, one that lingered in the mind for some reason. And it was in the recording studio of his senior's company that he met the boy agai...