“For our birthdays,” I said, “Daffy and me ate cake that wasn’t there. For all the noise in our house, we would lay our ears against the floor and hear music that wasn’t there.” I threw the dream of the violin into the wall. “Don’t tell me what is and is not here.” I bent down and picked up the imaginary pieces, putting them back together again. “I create things out of nothing every damn day. You can, too.”
