He sat. He tucked the cello between his knees. The familiar weight felt like a punch to the gut. He drew the bow across the C-string.
When he finished, the silence was louder than the music. Elias was breathing hard, his fingers stinging. we buy instruments
"I don't play," Elias lied. "I'm a banker. I need the space." He sat
Elias didn’t want to be there. He held a cello case like it was a casket. It belonged to his grandfather—a man who played with such ferocity that he’d once snapped a bow during a concerto and kept going with his bare hands. his fingers stinging. "I don't play