The next morning, the city felt different. People hummed the hook at bus stops. Someone wrote the chorus on a bakery window in chalk. The song threaded into the ordinary — a soundtrack for small rebellions and quiet mornings. Daddy Ash continued to cough and joke and fix other people's devices. Awek carried the memory of the night like a weight turned bright.

— End —

Awek's eyes filled. He swallowed the feeling like a chorus. Daddy Ash watched him, satisfied. "Share it," he said simply.