Trigonometry

"Evangeline," Fake Death called my name unexpectedly, his voice echoing softly in the dimly lit storage house.

I turned, my footsteps coming to a halt on the dusty floor. "Yeah?"

As usual, I wandered through the narrow aisles of memory jars, lost in thought. The soft glow of the jars illuminated the space while buzzing from different memory jars made the walk not eerily silent but slightly comforting.

"I'm close to entering the Maestro's office," Fake Death whispered, a note of urgency in his voice.

My stormy gray eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping from my lips. I had no idea what expression I had on my face right now, but all I knew was that I'd never felt such an intense feeling of happiness.

"How close?" I inquired eagerly, anticipation evident in my voice.

"About...  six more memories worth of waiting?"

The joy I felt almost immediately died down, and my shoulders slumped in dejection.