And indeed it did, his brow furrowed as he played the last note, a long lingering one of hope mixed with misery, echoing in the room.
He put the bow down, sighing and looking at his right hand.
"Oh well, that was rather mediocre. My hand isn't as precise as I'd hope it to be."
He put the bow down, sighing and looking at his right hand.
"Oh well, that was rather mediocre. My hand isn't as precise as I'd hope it to be."