Void

[Marlowe]

It looked so different now, devoid of everything that made that space his. Quincy cast one last look around, nothing but a few pieces of furnishing left behind. Small as it was, the studio fulfilled his every need up to that point. A hand by the doorsill, a timid grin appeared on his lips as he recalled Ambrose practicing his piece at the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes he even stayed up just for that, particularly when life was beating him down from every angle. But things change, and we must follow the music.

He nudged the satchel on his shoulder and reached for something in a pocket. Quincy stared at the rolled note for a long moment before placing it on the desk he left for the next tenant. The door remained ajar when he crossed the threshold.