“And you want to help her?” I stared Lewis straight in the eyes. “I want to give her music. Have to.” I tapped my head. “Already, it’s building up in me, like my heart knows what it has to do for her. It has to give her what she needs so she can fight—hope.” Nervous energy swirled inside, making it impossible to sit still. I started pacing in front of his desk. “I keep hearing melodies. Keep hearing the different sections—string, woodwind, brass—playing the same music, showing me their color pattern. Mapping out the way for me in my head. It’s pressing at my brain. I need to get it out.”
