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“Hey,” the voice came, low and rough, like it hadn’t been used much that day.
Mydei glanced back. The stranger was watching him now, expression unreadable.
“You play violin?” he asked, nodding at the case by his side.
He froze for a second, raising an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“That explains the fingers.”
He stared down at his hands, unconsciously—messily made band aids covering his fingers.
The stranger shrugged. “Calluses. I’m guessing... classical training? But you don’t look like you play safe.”
That shouldn’t have struck as deeply as it did. Mydei swallowed. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Means you probably play like you’re trying to bleed.”
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Bookmark Notes:
the type of thing i would love to read when everything gets too messy, too hot and suffocating, i can feel the breeze crawling out my phone while i was reading through each words, soothing my worries away...
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Bookmark Notes:
forget a freak off they’re having a yearn off and phainon’s winning