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Elias unzipped the case. The mahogany glowed, even in the dim shop light. It was a beautiful, haunting thing. The woman finally looked up. Her eyes weren't on the wood, but on Elias’s hands. "Why?" she asked.

When he finished, the silence was louder than the music. Elias was breathing hard, his fingers stinging. we buy instruments

He sat. He tucked the cello between his knees. The familiar weight felt like a punch to the gut. He drew the bow across the C-string. Elias unzipped the case

Elias looked at the cello, then at the peeling sign outside. He zipped the case, but he didn't head for the bank. He headed for the park, the weight on his shoulder finally feeling like it belonged there. Should I add a to this shop, or The woman finally looked up

"Because you're not selling a cello," she said, returning to her flute. "You're trying to sell your soul so you don't have to feel anything. Come back when you’re ready to sell me a trumpet you actually hate. Until then, get that beautiful thing out of my shop before I charge you for the concert."

The woman pointed a screwdriver at a velvet-lined stool. "Open it."