"I don't buy furniture, Mr. Vance," she said, knowing his name without being told. "I buy instruments. And an instrument isn't an instrument unless it’s making a sound. Prove it works."
"Because you're not selling a cello," she said, returning to her flute. "You're trying to sell your soul so you don't have to feel anything. Come back when you’re ready to sell me a trumpet you actually hate. Until then, get that beautiful thing out of my shop before I charge you for the concert." we buy instruments
"I don't play," Elias lied. "I'm a banker. I need the space." "I don't buy furniture, Mr
She stood up, her joints popping like dry reeds. She didn't touch the cello. Instead, she reached under the counter and pulled out a single, frayed bow. She handed it to him. And an instrument isn't an instrument unless it’s