Flashback: Nine years ago.
It was a quiet afternoon in Two Forks, Maine. Grandad was playing Mozart again. Pauline sat with her chin on the curved edge alongside the keyboard..
The tempo of the piece changed six times in seven minutes. That was unusual. Pauline liked it. It wasn't worried about being any particular thing; it was just going where the music went.
It was one of the ones Mozart hadn't finished before he died, Grandad said. Somebody else had written the ending.
Pauline could tell.
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