“Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. He told her something about music, the great world outside. When I told them I was going to your house today, my dad told me to either ask for lessons or bring my violin to give to you permanently since I was not ever going to use it. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. There’s no logic in these things. Fast asleep, he is.
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