Hannah lifts the stool and puts it down just to Sarah’s side. She opens the seat to see the music. Beethoven. Mozart. Wagner
To my dear sister Becca,
A shadow falls over the cream writing paper. Hannah looks up. “Ah, Emmy.”
She reaches over and drags a chair next to her. “Where have you been?”
Hannah looks around. Felix must be home, too, for he generally chaperones Emmy to social events.
Emmy’s cheeks are blotched and her curls have escaped, so she looks disarrayed but quite, quite beautiful. And agitated.
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