The concourse at Cassette Station Gamma played a lazy four-beat rhythm in B-flat that morning. The coffee kiosks' espresso machines had fallen into sync with the station's baseline. Steam released on the two. Portafilters knocked on the four. Even the baristas moved to it, sliding cups across counters in time.

 

Cadence caught herself bopping along as she waited for her delayed transport. Her coffee grew cold in her grip as something in her chest loosened, pulled by the station's pulse. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. She'd been here two hours already, and her body had found the station's pulse without her permission. The floor beneath her feet glowed a soft yellow, picking up her movement and spreading it in small circles.

 

Across the concourse, Allegro walked from the boarding gate back to the seats. His connection had been pushed another forty minutes. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he moved. The same four-beat pattern, though he heard it differently. For him, the emphasis landed on the second beat. The floor tracked his path in waves of blue.

 

The baseline hiccupped. Added a syncopated breath that made both of them stumble-step, then find the rhythm again, changed. Subtle at first. A half-beat added here, another syncopation there.

 

Cadence stood to stretch. The music pulled her toward the center of the concourse, where the ceiling opened higher and the acoustics became both strange and wonderful. Her walk shifted, a little bounce bloomed in her step. There was something building in her muscles that hadn't been there before.

 

Allegro had the same idea, or maybe the station gave it to him. He drifted from his seat toward that same open space. His stride lengthened to match the new rhythm. The blue waves from his footsteps began to merge with the yellow radiating from hers.

 

They passed within ten feet of each other. Both still walking to nowhere in particular, both moving to the same shifted beat. Strings joined the baseline. A bright synth line lifted the morning from waiting into anticipation.

 

Something electric shot through Cadence's spine. She turned on her heel, the spin erupted from her without thought, sending gold spiraling across the floor.

 

Allegro caught the spin in his peripheral vision. His body answered before his brain caught up; a small jump-step that landed perfectly on the downbeat. The floor bloomed purple beneath him.

 

Their feet found a conversation their mouths never would. Their paths curved around each other, creating a moving circle. They fed the station rhythm, and it fed them back, transformed. Other passengers began to notice. A few smiled. One child pointed.

 

The music built in layers, wrapping them in sound that lifted them out of their separate mornings and into something shared. Cadence felt laughter burst from her chest, bright and sudden. Allegro heard it and grinned, adding his own as he passed her again, closer this time.

 

For thirty, maybe forty seconds, they were synchronized. Two strangers moving through the same space, breathing the same rhythm. The station held them in light and sound, their bodies tracing the song in the air.

 

Then, gentle as it began, the rhythm shifted beneath them, pulling them apart.

 

Cadence's pulse quickened as her yellow path curved toward Platform Seven. The announcement board flickered. Her transport was arriving this time. Her feet found urgency, purpose returning to her stride.

 

Hunger gnawed at Allegro's stomach, and his blue trail bent toward the food court. The music in his ears became something different, reminding him he hadn't eaten since yesterday. His pace slowed, became a stride again.

 

They passed once more. Close enough to see each other clearly. She threw him a quick salute, still bouncing slightly. He touched two fingers to his temple in response, still grinning.

Then they were walking away, in different directions, to different futures. The station's music settled back to its four-beat comfort like a satisfied sigh. The colors faded to the standard morning palette.

 

But Cadence boarded her transport with her shoulders loose and her head high, that gold spiral still alive in her muscles.

 

And Allegro ordered his breakfast while humming something new, his fingers still tapping purple rhythms on the counter.

 

The station breathed, content. Another brief song sketched in footsteps and laughter. Another moment when the space between strangers had held music.

 

By noon, the concourse would host a dozen more small dances. By evening, a hundred. Each one different. Each one perfect in its brevity.

 

The lazy B-flat morning resumed, patient and waiting, ready for the next passengers to discover what Cadence and Allegro had.