49. Practice Makes Perfect

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"You're not even trying. Again!"

My calloused hands dance across the keyboard. A finger slips and the piano groans.

"Your father would be ashamed. Again!"

My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the faded ivory. I miss another note.

"Faster. Again!"

I stumble once more as the tempo increases.

She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming.

The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince.

It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.

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