The Violinist's Secret

sehair on gut strings. Eight hours a day, every day. My violin was

ler. She arrived with a warm smile and eye

ur first lesson, her voice soft. "We were roommates

ngry for any detail.

me. They were drifting towards the main house, where my father' s office was

But maybe it's time for him to move on. To

's waiting for my m

a flicker of something in her gaze. It was the same look I saw from t

o teach me violin. She

er, more desperate. I had to be perfect. I had to bring my mo

hed. She was the closest thing I had to a mother, her gent

ard, mija," she'd say

s a small price to pay