Elian’spenpaused.

        Fourunedications—thiswasn’tsomethingyoudiscoveredfromtakingedieowice.Heturnedhishead,andsuddenly,hefeltastrangecuriosityaboutthechildhoodofthisundercssmanwhoalwaysseemedperfectlyarmored.

        “Howmanytimeswereyouawalkingmediebottleasakidtofigureoutyou’reallergictofourraredrugs?”

        “Mm…IgotsickalotwhenIwaslittle…”Withthefeverlherdefeoalmostnothing,Cradidn’thavethestrengthtofilteroutprivatequestions.Sheansweredlikeshewashalf-dreaming.“Alotofeariions…alwaysinightmyearswouldhurtinside…Icouldoakingantibiotics…”

        Eariions?

        Elianfroze.

        Foramusi—especiallyabassistsosensitivetopitdfrequency—repeatedmiddle-eariionsinchildhoodwerelikeburyingexplosivesuhefoundationofhearing.Thisgirlwhocouldnowcatchchordrootswithprecision…hadgrownupinsiderecurringearpain?

        Hefihestline,cappedthepen,aheclipboardaside.Hisgazedriftedagain—untrolled—toCra’srighthandhanginglimpbyherside.

        There,onthesideofherthumb,aringofbreathabletapehadturnedfaintlyyellow.Theedgehadpeeledup,revealihiewcallusbeh.Worse—atthecallus’sedge,darkredtracesremained:cracksfromoverstrikirings,scabbedover,splitagain,scabbedagain.

        Twoweeks.

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