Henry feels like he doesn’t appreciate echoes enough. Not when he could hear the sound of his violin curving through the walls of the empty music hall and bouncing back to his ears, the sound pure as the way his fingers, his strings and his bow creates it.

His fingers dance on the strings, bow gliding gently to an improvised tune, gradually adding instruments on his mind that will later on be transferred hastily on a loose piece of paper, messy handwriting a result of his hand trying to catch up with his mind. He allows himself to create. Create a world where there’s no one but him, his instrument and his music.

At least until a few moments later when the door opens and a head pops up, peeking at him.

“Henry, lunch time.”

Henry opens his eyes and sees his manager, Stella, who’s really more of a friend than a manager, jogging down the aisle towards him. He looks down at his wristwatch. Half past twelve. He’s been practicing since eight.

“Sorry.” He says sheepishly. “I got carried away.”

Stella rolls her eyes but smiles at him. “As always. Come on, let’s go eat. I don’t want to have to answer to your mom when she finds out that you’re not eating on time.”

Henry chuckles but gets to his feet, putting his violin back into his case and slinging it over his shoulder, catching up to Stella who’s already at the door.

As they drive to the nearest diner, Henry hears the song in his head again. He smiles. It sounds hopeful. His fingers twitch and he finally asks Stella for a pen and paper.

 

Stella looks disapprovingly at him from across the table, his chicken and pesto untouched as he scribbles away on a piece of napkin, only stopping for a few seconds to crack his knuckles before proceeding.

“Can’t you at least take a bite or something?” Stella tsks. Henry just nods, humming under his breath, never looking up from what he’s doing. His manager rolls her eyes and kept eating.

 

After Henry had gone through five or six napkins, he finally deemed it enough to stop and smiles sheepishly at Stella who was waiting patiently for him to finish. She hands him his takeout bag and they leave the diner, the napkins tucked carefully on the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Can I go walk around a bit?” he asks and Stella just looks pointedly at him.

“You have a show tonight, Henry.”

“But it’s my first time in L.A.! I promise I’d be back before the show.”

Stella sighs. “Fine.”

Henry beams and hugs her. “Thank you!”

Stella waves him away with a stern reminder that he should be back at the hall by six and Henry argues that he’s not going to take that long before waving her goodbye, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans before walking towards the park he’s been eyeing since this morning.

He looks around and sees an empty bench. Smiling, he adjusts his violin on his shoulder before heading towards it, the tune that he’s trying to create earlier persisting in his mind again. However, once seated, he goes against working on the song again as he needs fresh eyes and ears to look at it on a few days time. Instead, when he finally pulls out his violin, his fingers start with a playful tune - I’m Yours, a song that he always plays to impress girls outside the classical music circle. But today, there are no girls to impress, he plays because he simply wants to. Having been playing classical music his entire life, sometimes, he just needs to escape it.

His fingers dance lightly on the strings, eyes closed, allowing himself not to think too much. Touring is starting to take a toll on him. He had not come home to Canada for almost five months now and he still has three more months to go. He really misses his family.

He closes the song, doing a bit of improvisation and when he looks up, he realizes that a small crowd had gathered around him, listening. There was scattered clapping and Henry smiles shyly before saying thank you. After they dispersed, Henry puts his violin away, still smiling. Sometimes it’s nice to have fewer audiences who genuinely believe in your talent than a huge music hall full of pretentious adults nitpicking his hair or his clothes or compare him to some other violinist his age or younger. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his job. He loves playing music but sometimes, he would just love it if he didn’t have anyone to impress but himself.

“Hi,” Henry looks up and sees someone he recognized from the crowd earlier, hair jammed under a cap, wearing a blue basketball jersey with black skinny jeans. Henry first thought he was a boy but he adjusts the strap of his backpack and the movement made him notice that he’s wearing a sports bra and with a blush, he looks away quickly, realizing where he was looking.

“That was really cool.” he - she - says with a grin, sitting beside him and nodding towards his violin.

“Oh, thanks.” Henry replies lamely, ears still red, embarrassed that he mistook her for a boy.

“Is it okay if you play another song?” she asks and Henry smiles slightly at her suddenly shy demeanor. He sees her glancing at his violin. “I’ve always been fascinated with violins.”

“Sure.” Henry takes his violin out again and hoists it on his shoulder. “Any requests? Do you know any classical music?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “No, not really. Just play whatever you feel.”

Henry nods, flexing his fingers and with a deep breath, he closes his eyes and starts playing.

Monti’s Czardas. His fingers move on muscle memory, occasionally adding his own flair into it - doing more shifts and slides and changing his bowing style, creating his own interpretation of the piece. That’s how Monti intended it to be, anyways - giving the player a sense of freedom and Henry loved that. He finishes with a decrescendo, the notes slowly fading into a stop. He opens his eyes and lowers his instrument.

“That’s amazing!” the girl exclaims, her cat-like grin only getting wider. “What song was that?”

“Vittorio Monti’s Czardas.” Henry smiles, carefully placing his violin on his lap.

“I don’t know who that is but he sounds great.” she scoots closer, Henry notices.

He chuckles. “Well, he’s no Chopin or Vivaldi but yeah, he’s great, too.”

“Aha! I know who Chopin is.”

Henry laughs and finds himself returning her grin. Her eyes landed on his watch and she gasps, reaching for his wrist to look at the time correctly.

“, I’m gonna be late!” she mumbles to herself furiously before letting him go, grabbing her books beside her and standing up. She moves so fast that Henry’s only got a small fracture of time to process what’s happening.

“I have to go, I’m sorry! It was really nice talking to you!” She waves him goodbye and dashed out of his sight, cap almost falling off her head in her rush. Henry watches as she gets on a cab before sighing, putting his violin back in its case.

He should have at least asked for her name.

 

Henry didn’t return to the park because the next two days were dedicated for practicing for his last L.A. show. He didn’t have the time to look at his new composition either. It’s still tucked safely in the pocket of his jacket, awaiting its completion.

He carries on his last show without a problem. He relishes on the applause he received, beaming as he takes his last bow. He exits the stage after, loosening his tie and darting straight to his dressing room where baskets of flowers were waiting for him, card signed by the producers of the show. He ignores those and takes the chocolates beside them instead.

“Hey, ready to go?” Stella’s head peeks in, a huge grin on her face.

“Yeah, I’ll just grab my stuff.” Henry completely removes the tie from his neck, stuffing it in his bag before placing his violin carefully in its case. Taking a swig from his bottled water, he grabs his stuff and leaves the room, following Stella out of the hall.

There were still a lot of people in the lobby, still buzzed from the show and talking amongst themselves, sparing Henry a smile or two as he walks past them. Henry nods at them gratefully but had to take a double look when he sees something from the corner of his eye.

There, by the entrance, was the girl he talked to at the park a few days ago, sticking out like a sore thumb with her gray beanie and black hoodie in the sea of expensive dresses and neatly ironed suits. She’s standing by the huge poster for the show, oddly concentrated in reading it. Henry feels a smile forming on his face as he jogs up to her.

“Hey, you’re here!” he greets, already grinning.

The girl looks up from reading the poster and he sees the flash of recognition in her eyes before she returns his grin.

“Hey!” she greets back just as pleasantly surprised as he is. “I saw your poster outside. I didn’t know you’re a legit violinist. I thought you were just a street musician.”

Henry chuckles. “Wouldn’t blame you.”

“ I missed your show, though.” She says. “Tonight’s the last one?”

“Yeah,” Henry nods. “I leave tomorrow.”

“That’s too bad.” She bites her lower lip. “I actually went back to the park the day after we talked. I was kinda hoping you’d be there again.”

Henry feels the warmth on his face spread across his cheeks at that and his stomach is starting to feel queasy. Then that’s when he realized that he doesn’t even know her name yet.

“Hey, would you like to go for a coffee?” He blurts out and he doesn’t know where it came from but there’s something persisting on his brain, a faint prodding. Maybe it’s the post-show adrenaline. Maybe it’s something entirely different.

The girl snorts. “You don’t even know my name yet and you’re asking me out for coffee?”

“What’s in a name?” Henry shrugs, chuckling. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

She makes a face. “Just by quoting Shakespeare, I’m going to strip you the privilege of knowing my name.” Then she smirks and Henry’s heart starts beating fast all of a sudden. “But, if I say yes to your coffee offer, you’ll have the whole night to guess my name.”

 

“Is it Leslie?”

“No.”

“Alexa?”

“No.” A scrunch of nose that he thinks is cute. “I’ll give you a hint: It doesn’t suit me.”

“Judy!”

She laughs, throwing her head back and Henry can’t help the smile on his face. She’s incredibly easy to talk to and he’s finding himself getting more fond. He needs to tread carefully through this or it might all blow up on his face.

“Wow, you’re really bad at this.” She says as her laughter subsides, sipping her coffee and rolling up her sleeves. “That’s enough for now. Only three guesses in an hour, Henry.”

The way she says his name caught him off guard but doesn’t fail to make him a little bit giddy.

“Okay, that’s just not fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“It wasn’t hard to spot your name in the poster, Mr. Violin Prodigy.” She teases. “Enough about this. This is your first time in L.A., yeah?”

Henry nods.

“Then what are we doing in a cafe? L.A. has the best music scene in the world!” She exclaims, already packing her stuff and taking out her wallet. “We gotta get out there!”

“Better than New York?” Henry asks, teasing.

She frowns at him, squinting, like he just said something offensive. “That’s debatable.”

Henry chuckles. She puts a 50 dollar bill on the table and Henry’s about to protest but she’s already grabbing his hand and leading him out of the cafe, unlocking her bike.

“Where are we going?”

“Subway.”

 

She parks her bike somewhere nearby and they go down the station. She looks back at him for a second and smiles before dashing down the stairs. Henry’s smile turned into a grin, gripping the strap of his violin case tighter as he jogs down after her. She waits for him at the bottom of the stairs and leads him through the station.

“Sometimes the best music comes in their purest form - from someone heartfelt and raw.” They turn left and she stops. “Street musicians.” She grins.

They stop in front of a man with a keyboard, singing soulfully with his eyes closed. His voice resonates through his ears and goes straight to his heart. That’s the thing he loves the most about music, if played with a heart, can make you feel different kinds of things all at once and overwhelm you.

 

But she said, where'd you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I'm not looking for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

 

Henry looks at the girl beside him and smiles, seeing how transfixed she is with the music just as much as he is. He hears an accompanying melody in his head and he takes his violin out and plays, surprising her and the man in the keyboards. Henry smiles at her before going up to the man who’s nodding encouragingly at him, smiling as well.

Black and white keys blends beautifully with strings and sends shivers down his spine. A small crowd is starting to gather around them already and Henry looks up to meet her eyes as she walks forward to drop a twenty on the basket, winking at him. He tries not to blush and focuses on playing. Henry follows the man’s improvisations, his grin mirroring his as he taps his feet along with the beat and his fingers dance to their own rhythm, creating a melody that perfectly complements his.

When the songs comes to a close, there’s scattered clapping around them and the man grins at him gratefully, stretching out his hand which Henry enthusiastically took. Meeting other musicians always excites him, no matter how different their styles are.

“Roy.” The man says.

Henry beams. “Henry.”

 

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” She grins, still bouncing on the balls of her feet lightly as they look for seats in the crowded train.

“It was.” Henry leans against a pole and pulls her in front of him, getting her out of people’s way. She almost falls but she grabs the pole next to her, laughing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like that.”

“Well isn’t it a good thing that you came with me, then?” She chuckles, looking at her wristwatch and grinning excitedly. “Okay, you have three more guesses within this hour.”

Henry straightens up, cracking his knuckles and shaking off his limbs teasingly, heaving a deep breath while she snorts at his ridiculousness. He laughs at himself, too, eyes turning to crescents, her fist connecting to his shoulder lightly.

“Abigail.” He squints.

She shakes her head, an amused smile on her lips. “Not even close.”

“Christina?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ dramatically. “This is your last guess until the next hour, make it count.”

“Am…” Henry prolongs his ‘m’s, carefully thinking of something to connect it to. “Amethyst.”

She seems to be taken aback at first but then she starts laughing. Really loud. People near them are starting to look. Henry should feel embarrassed but how could he when the sight in front of him is nothing short of beautiful and there’s definitely nothing embarrassing about the sound of her laughter.

“I’m not special enough to be named Amethyst.” She says once the laughter subsides, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“This would be easier if you just tell me your name, you know.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Her cat-like grin adorns her face. “Besides, it’s not worth it if you don’t work hard for it.”

Henry squints at her. “I feel like you don’t really want me to know your name.”

“Oh believe me, I want you to know my name more than anything.” She looks him in the eye, grin turning into a smirk. Henry gulps.

“This is a jazz club.” It’s more of a statement than anything else and Henry looks up at the bold black letters illuminated by several white lights. ‘blue whale,’ it reads. He’s heard of this place before - from his brother whose hobbies include going to cool places without him and playing jazz on piano.

“Technically, it’s a bar.”

Henry rolls his eyes, chuckling as he grabs her wrist, pulling her inside.

There’s already a band playing when they sit by the bar, the smooth sound of saxophone and bass arresting Henry’s ears. There’s a series of abstract photographs on the two walls surrounding the stage. There’s a huge block on the ceiling in an odd shape with what seems to be an excerpt from some book. He surveys the casually dressed crowd and is suddenly aware of his stiff suit jacket. He takes it off, putting it on his lap, looking over at the girl beside him who’s already grinning at the bartender.

“Hey Ricky.” She greets. “Two Amber Ales, please.”

The guy she called Ricky nods, smiling as well, before grabbing two glasses and two bottles of beer, sliding it in front of them along with a small bucket of ice.

“Are you a regular here?” Henry asks.

She shrugs. “I come here a lot to study. I have two roommates and they’re both not the quiet type.” She chuckles.

“Study?”

“Yep. I’m a university student.” She takes a couple of ice cubes with her fingers before dropping them to the glass, the sound, Henry thinks, perfectly matches the way the piano riffs in the background. “I’m a Marine Biology major.”

“That’s really cool.” Henry says, genuinely impressed. It’s rare for him to meet someone who wasn’t a music major or an art major. “You study marine animals, right?”

“As the name implies, yes.” She snorts, pouring the beer on her glass.

“I gotta ask,” Henry starts, pouring his beer as well. “Are mermaids real?”

She laughs in the middle of sipping her drink, almost choking. She wipes her lips with the sleeve of her jacket but there’s still a bit of froth on the corner of her lips. Henry reaches out and wipes it gently with his thumb. She smiles at him just as the smooth saxophone comes back in with a solo.

“We’ve only explored five percent of the ocean,” She answers. “So who knows, maybe there are mermaids out there.”

Henry chuckles and there’s silence between them, smiling at each other as the music fills the blanks between them, chairs scooted close to each other, hands inches apart.

“You know, I actually thought you’re a musician.” Henry breaks their silence, absentmindedly swirling his drink around.

“I love music.” She shrugs, chuckling. “Although, I did audition for a Korean company when I was a teenager.” She snorts and sips her drink. “SM Entertainment, I think.”

Henry raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you serious? I auditioned for them, too!”

“Really? When?”

“2006.”

“I auditioned the year after!”

They both laughed at the coincidence, clinking their glasses together and taking a swig.

“Can you even imagine what would we be like if we became popstars?” She snorts and there’s a dazed look on her eyes, seemingly imagining herself in that position before she shakes her head, shuddering at the thought. “I think I’ll stick to aquatic animals.”

“I’d rather stick with my violin, too.” Henry agrees, taking another sip of his drink.

“Funny, isn’t it?” She suddenly asks, leaning closer to him.

“What is?”

“Fate, destiny,” She gestures vaguely in front of her. “Whatever you believe in.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The reason why I was on that park the day I met you was because I fell asleep on the train and got off at the wrong station,” She chuckles. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen you play, wouldn’t even have the guts to talk to you and we definitely wouldn’t be here, listening to good music and drinking to our shared experiences of being almost popstars.”

Henry laughs. “So you’re saying that fate or destiny is the reason we met?”

She nods, chuckling. “Or, the universe conspired for us meet. I mean, what are the odds that me, a Marine Biology major would meet a musical prodigy in his five-day trip to Los Angeles?”

“One in a million, probably.” He chuckles, shrugging.

“That’s right.” She grins and they clink their glass together again, laughing as they empty it. The music continues to play in the background and Henry watches as her hand inches closer to his, slowly, until their pinkies touched. He looks up at her and she’s already smiling at him. He smiles back.

The music fades, followed by an applause.

Henry hooks their pinkies together.

 

The record store is far brighter than the jazz bar and Henry blinks to filter in the bright lights of the ever famous Amoeba Music as they walk inside. After another bottle of Amber ales and more pleasant conversation, they decided to leave and hailed a cab where Henry got three more guesses at her name and like his previous attempts, he got it all wrong. She just laughed at him and led him to the record store.

She finds a staff member and asked where the listening station is and they’re directed to the back corner of the store where several tablets are set up.

“Okay, I’m ready to meet Vivaldi and that other guy that you mentioned.” She says, motioning to one of the tablets in front of them.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “You want to learn about classical music?”

“‘Course I do. And who better to learn it from than a music prodigy?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You need to stop calling me that. I’m not a prodigy. Besides, you’ve seen me play once. What makes you so sure that I’m as impressive as you deem me to be?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t have two sold out shows if you .” She punches his shoulder playfully and Henry laughs again. “Come on!”

“Okay, fine, fine.” Henry takes a look at the song library and found the classical music playlist. He scrolls down, trying to find the perfect piece to introduce her to the genre. He decides on something that will impress her the most and smiles when he finds it, grabbing the earphones beside the tablet and leaning closer to her. He meets her expectant face and puts the earphones on her, faces inches apart.

“Is it a good piece?” She whispers as she spares the briefest glance at his lips before fixing her gaze back into his eyes.

“I think you’ll like it.” He grins, fixing her hair out of her eyes before leaning back and pressing play. She gives him a fleeting look and fixes her gaze on the wall in front of them, concentrating on the music. He gives it a few minutes, humming the piece on his head, waiting for the part that he knows she’ll like and grinning when she suddenly looks up at him, eyebrows raised in astonishment.

“That was awesome!” She says loudly over the music she’s hearing. Henry chuckles as few of the customers looks at them, startled. He nods and urges her to continue listening to the piece, smiling at the way she looks at him with the same look of astonishment whenever the music builds up. When the piece finishes, she removes the headphones and gapes at him.

“Vivaldi’s La Follia.” He says. “In case you’re wondering.”

“That Vivaldi guy is intense.”

“He is. I like to think he’s the inspiration of rock music.” He says cheekily, grinning at her.

“That would make a lot of sense, actually.”

“Want to hear more?”

“Yes, please.”

 

An hour later, they left the record store carrying a collection of Vivaldi’s best and the entire discography of an alternative rock band that she recommended. Happy with her purchase, she exits the store with a huge grin and Henry chuckles as he watches her sigh in content, looking up to the sky. She suddenly looks back down to him, eyes twinkling as her cat-like grin starts to make its way to her face.

“We have one last stop.” She walks over to him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Come on!”

She hails for a cab and it’s a ten-minute ride before they stop in front of a tall building. She pays and gets out, still holding him by the wrist.

“Where are we?” Henry asks, craning his neck as he looks up at the building.

“You’ll see.” She grins, leading him to the back.

“Isn’t this a private property? I don’t think we should be here.” Henry hisses as they tread carefully through the alley.

“Relax. I’ve never been caught once.” She grins again, prying the door open. “They still don’t know that the back door is broken and the security over here is pretty laughable.”

They go further into the building and Henry tries not to panic too much. She leads him to the fire exit where she finally lets go of his wrist. He feels cold where the warmth of her palm used to be.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Rooftop.”

The building is six stories high and they jog up the stairs with her constantly laughing at his inability to keep up. He whines that he’s wearing dress shoes and fitted dress pants so clearly he’s handicapped. She rolls her eyes and runs faster.

By the time they open the door to the rooftop, Henry’s already sweaty and panting hard.

“You need to exercise more, violin boy.” She smirks and Henry makes a face at her.

“Shut up.” He straightens himself, ing the first two buttons of his shirt. “Why are we here?”

She looks around and takes off her hoodie, a smile forming on her face. “This is the place where you could here the best kind of music.”

Henry looks at her, confused. “I don’t hear anything.”

She beckons for him to come closer where she’s standing - to a spot where he could clearly see almost the entire city, little yellow dots of light blurring his eyes.

“It’s the sound of the entire city of Los Angeles.” She says gently, looking down at the city with a fond gaze. “Do you hear that? The sound of cars honking - hurrying to get home to their loved ones; College kids going out after a week of studying; Street musicians playing their own songs that they worked hard for; The muffled sound of nightclubs.” She looks at him and Henry realizes that they’re way too close for comfort again. Neither moved, nonetheless. “It’s the sound of being alive.”

There’s a moment of silence between them - a moment of staring into each other’s eyes when Henry realizes that if he lets this girl slip through his fingers, he’ll regret it. A lot.

“Hey,” She whispers and he feels her breath on his skin.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

“It’s been more than an hour. Three more guesses.”

Three more guesses. This is their last stop. Will she really not tell him her name if he gets all three guesses wrong? It’s midnight and he leaves L.A. in a few hours. It’s already an odd chance that they met, the chances of them meeting again is probably close to impossible.

“Rebecca?”

There’s a low chuckle before she leans closer. “No.”

“Chloe.”

A grin. “No.”

Henry finds it hard to think as she lessens the gap between them, eyes looking up to his, lips centimeters apart.

Before Henry could say his last guess, however, the door opens with a loud thud and a flashlight is pointed at them. They jump apart, squinting to see who it is.

“Hey, kids! What are you doing here? This is a private property!”

“.”

 

“Henry Lau!” Henry winces as Stella marches through the door, positively livid. Understandable. “I got woken up at one in the morning to a phone call telling me to pick you up at the police station when you should have been back in your hotel room by now!”

“Sorry.” Henry mumbles sinking back on his seat.

“I’m sorry, it’s really my fault. I told him to come with me.”

Henry still hasn’t guessed her name right so when Stella looks at her and then back to him with a raised eyebrow, he doesn’t know how to explain.

“And who is this young lady, Henry?” Stella asked and he doesn’t know whether he should answer or not. Either way, he knows Stella will yell at him more.

“Amber Josephine Liu! Mom is going to kill you, I swear to god!”

“Hey, Jackie…” She smiles sheepishly, sinking back to her seat beside Henry.

Amber. That’s her name? Henry finds himself smiling despite what’s happening. He hears Stella sighing beside him before talking to one of the officers, probably to do some damage control.

“Trespassing, really?” The girl called Jackie says, hands on her hips.

“Well, in my defense, it’s the first time I got caught, okay?” Amber says. “They didn’t charge us with anything, at least, so please don’t tell mom!”

Jackie sighs. “You’re lucky I answered the phone. Come on, I’ll drive you back to your apartment.”

Henry thought she had forgotten that he’s there and will leave without sparing him a glance but she’s halfway to the door when she tells her sister to wait, turning back to him. He wastes no time, jogging towards her, grinning.

“Amber, huh?”

She chuckles. “I told you it doesn’t suit me.”

“Debatable.” She punches his arm lightly, grinning. “Is that why you ordered Amber ale at the bar?”

“I was really hoping you’d catch that.”

Henry snorts, shaking his head. “It went completely over my head. Besides, I was having a very pleasant conversation with a very interesting person. Can you blame me for not paying attention?”

Amber laughs and Henry tucks the image away in his mind to save for later.

“Can you blame me for being an interesting person?”

“I guess not.”

“You leave in a few hours, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll need a souvenir, then.” Amber grins and Henry knits his eyebrows in confusion, briefly asking himself if there’s a gift shop at the police station but before he could ask what she means, she leans forward to kiss him, hands roaming the expanse of his shoulders. It takes him a second to realize what’s happening but he responds, calloused hands on her waist, heart beating fast against his chest where her palm is now rested.

“How’s that?” Amber asks as she pulls away but still close enough to make him go crazy.

“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting L.A. anytime soon.” He answers, chuckling.

“Good.” Amber grins, reaching for something in the pocket of her jeans. She takes it out and gives it to Henry, kissing his cheek. “Use it wisely, violin boy.”

Henry looks at the piece of table napkin in his hand, the logo of the cafe they first went into stares back at him in bold red letters. He opens it and sees her name accompanied by her number. He looks up at her but she’s already by the door, telling her sister to shut up. She spares him one last glance and her cat-like grin before the door closes behind her.

Henry smiles to himself, pocketing the napkin carefully. Stella comes up behind him, clearing .

“You will explain everything to me once you’re well rested.” She says firmly.

Henry turns to look at her, grinning. “I think I have a song to finish.”