Then she started crying, like a woman who realizes that even though the piano didn’t fall on her head, it fell on someone else’s head instead, and not just any someone, but her younger sister, a brilliant bank robber in her own right with so much potential, so much potential, potential like a piano prodigy, and she suddenly hated the word potential, because it’s either wasted or lived up to and guess who was no longer up to living in this particular scenario.
