Infinite

Swan Lake

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Swan Lake, Op. 20
Composed and Arranged by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Released in 1876
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Lynn could feel the nerves racing through her. Making an announcement to a crowd of this size wasn't easy. Ten thousand ghosts all stared at her, their quiet discussions buzzing loud enough to create a steady stream of white noise by the time it all hit her ears.

"You've got this!" Reggie gave Lynn two thumbs up, which made her proud of everything she'd worked for for the last couple months.

"Hello, everyone. If you could now take a seat, I will begin my presentation shortly." She stood up at the podium of the old theatre, watching as the last of the ghosts settled into the seats at the theatre she called a second home. "Hello, fellow ghosts of Los Angeles. My name is Lynn Rider, and I'd like to propose an idea..."

She took an hour of talking through every single detail, and another half hour was spent answering questions from the crowd. Somehow, the entire theatre full of souls had agreed with her plan. She wasn't sure what her expectations were, but that wasn't it. In the space of an hour and a half, there were nominations for officers—ghosts she vaguely recognized, but not completely—and suggestions to change wording and it made her happy.

Proud, actually.

"I will have formal applications in this building in a couple days, please come by and fill one out if you're interested. You're all free to go, though I hope to see you all around sometime." Lynn stepped away from the podium, concluding her speech.

"That was amazing." Reggie gave her a hug, almost giving her a kiss before remembering that she didn't want one. She almost wanted it. The part of her that wanted it was slowly growing larger, while the part that didn't was slowly shrinking.

"I feel like I just climbed a mountain. Or won the Olympics. And it's awesome." Lynn couldn't contain her smile. She was on top of the world, and every part of her surged with energy. How could she not? Everything had fallen into place and the stars had aligned in her favor.

"You did. Both, really. I'm proud of you for doing it." Reggie didn't know how else to convey his excitement, but he seemed to be as excited as she was about the whole thing.

"Can we stick around? I want to dance before I have to get back to working on this." Lynn looked at him, and he couldn't say no. There was no way he could say no to her, he cared too much about seeing her happy and watching her dance captivated him. It was mesmerising, to say the least. And it made him yearn for forever by her side.

"Of course." Reggie squeezed her hand and watched as the last of the ghosts poofed out of the theatre or walked out to explore the edge of Pasadena.

"Can you put on Track 6?" Reggie didn't know what "Track 6" meant, however he'd learned how to turn on the music. That much he'd learned after watching her a couple times and watching as she had to change it all on her own. Plus, with nothing else to do, it was the least he could do to help out.

"Yep." He walked up to the top, not caring that he could also just poof himself up there because time wasn't of the essence. And she was stretching out a bit and figuring out what exactly she wanted to wear. There were plenty of different outfits, most of which Reggie didn't even know she had. Tutus, leotards, layered tulle dresses, it turned into a whirlwind of color before Lynn landed on a white dress with an uncountable number of layers of transparent fabric.

He turned "Track 6" on and instantly recognized it. Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky. Her favorite song. After one of their spirited talks about classical music, he'd learned her favorites and the songs that could make her cry and everything in between.