When I reached the top of the second page, she made a slight sound in her throat, a clearing. At the last stanza on the second page, she quietly stood and turned the page, and the hairs rose on my arm. She leaned closer, and I adjusted my position so that she could join me. Measure by measure, rise and fall, she breathed with me.
As the final notes wound down, she placed her hand on top of mine. She raised my hand to her mouth, pressed her lips against the skin. I turned her hand over and found the soft place on her wrist, found her eyes, pulled her to my lips and screamed.