“You’ve always been good at that.” She affirmed, exchanging a passing glance before her gaze fell back to the instrument. “It’s alright, Salem. It’s alright. You just worried me. I was afraid for a moment that I had created a fiction – a friendship that was never there – but you’re still just as I remember you.” Her eyes turned to trail his face. “Okay.” She sighed, intently watching his hand. She attempted to mirror his movements, her attempt almost successful before she was met with a slipping finger. Turning slightly, she shot Salem a crooked smile. “Almost?”
“I think it’s just because I like you a bit,” he shrugged, laughing playfully. “I’m glad that you think so. I’ve been terrified that you’d think I was too different now that I’m back,” he admitted. Salem laughed softly, nodding his head. “It’s fine. You’ve got to stretch your fingers like you do for yoga or ballet, you know? It takes time.”
















