Loss
Jobe caressed the polished wood of his violin as it sat on the stone counter. “Fine. It’s better in your hands anyway.”
The shopkeeper wiped a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. That’s all I can offer.”
“I know, Sam.”
Sam handed a heavy purse to Jobe. “Will you play it one last time for me?”
“I wish I could bring her back for you permanently, but I can’t.”
“Don’t say that. Not to me,” Sam shook his head. “I won’t ever see her again.”
“You will, Sam. A war is coming. Stay if you wish to see her sooner.”