The bow of the violin trembled above the strings, tremors running down the sides of the instrument itself.

The varnish was new, and the strings had been tuned, run over once with resin, ready to be played.

Its condition was begging her to continue.

Mei stretched her left hand out in a meek attempt to reach fifth position on the neck of the violin.

She got halfway there, confidence bubbling up in her before it was silenced by a burst of fierce agony.

But I had done it yesterday!

The pain made the bones in her left hand crack uncomfortably, her radius and ulna reacting violently against the strained joint.

The silky pain laced all the way up to her shoulder, engulfing her left side and making her cheek slightly numb.

“Mei? Are you ready?”

“Of course I am!” she responded readily, letting her left hand hang limp. Maybe, if it had rest, it would recover sufficiently.

“Well, c’mon. The concert’s starting.”

Mei pulled up her falling sleeve, concealing the scars from the grisly car accident.