Schadenfreude

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She’s back from the hospital.

For the first time in twenty-five years, she’ll be home for Christmas. No more touring.

I suppose I knew what I was getting when I married her. She was fond of reminding me herself.  In truth, it was when I saw her play that I truly fell in love with her. Her hands calling the beautiful music from the cello cradled in her legs like a beloved child.

Of course there were no children. There was her, me, and the cello. Three of us.

A kinder man would put the cello back in its case.

 

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