Creeping, slowly, crawling up your back, the shiver you can't suppress. Sudden, tight clenching of all your body's muscles. You stiffen, not knowing what should come next. You know where you want to go, you know what you want to do, but you don't know how to get there, don't even know who to ask. You have to keep your voice from rising into a shout, though it claws its way up your throat and your tongue works to have it out. You want them to know your passion, you want them to know you're more than some automaton. You need to have it out; it's like breathing to you - go for too long without that expression and you die. Your emotions run off without you and you're left an empty corpse, listless and overlooked. So we can't let that happen. We have to get you a stage. We have to let you soar the way the cathedral's spire soar - to heaven.
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