Kafka moved in close, adjusting your hands on the violin and placing a kiss on your cheek, whispering to your ear.

“A bit higher, honey.”

She moved your hand higher and came even closer, the closeness between you and her started to feel warm. You always admired how Kafka played the violin for you, her girlfriend so you asked her to teach you.

You moved the violin bow along the strings slowly, yet the sound that came out was horrendous. Disappointed with failure, you were about to give up. However, Kafka grabbed your hand with the violin bow and guided your hand to play. This time, the sound was better.

“Gently, darling,” she spoke in a hushed tone. “Patience breeds success. Soon, you will play just as good as me.”