She's like the wind. Ephemeral and no less destructive for her beauty and form.

Christopher Clarke has watched her, just like this, more times than he can remember, and it's always the same. She's magic and light on stage, but when the curtains close, she's untouchable, unreachable.

Still, he wouldn't miss a performance from Sara Deveraux, especially when she's the heroine in his favorite play, and it's just getting to the good part.

"Sara, try singing as if you're speaking to a lover instead of the cashier at the grocer."

He loves how Sara blushes, before she gives a slight nod. Again her voice carries on the wind and Chris closes his eyes to listen. When she reaches for her falsetto, however, the crack is glaringly unmistakable as is the disappointment that hangs in the air.

"Carlotta!" Maestro yells. A busty woman with a wealth of carmine hair enters stage right.

"Yes, Maestro."

"Will you please sing Sara's section so she can hear how it should sound."

Chris watches Carlotta takes her place and listens as she bellows the song only Sara can rightly sing. He cringes when she sings the falsetto perfectly. Thankfully her round figure is too plump for the part or Sara would be out on her ear.

Sara clears her throat and tries three more times to reach a falsetto that just isn't going to give in, before Maestro moves on, clearly unwilling to spend more time today on Sara's failures.

Chris moves away when the troupe continues on with the play, forming a plan in his mind as he goes. If Sara can't reach the height of her part, he'll figure out a way to move the part for her.