He holds her wrist at an angle in the air, the sleeve of her sky blue cardigan sinking down her arm. It is soft and comfortable and two sizes too big. In her hand is the wand, grasped between her thumb and the folded forefinger. He lets go, and her wrist remains stiff in the air. Upon his command, X drops her hand in quick gracious salute, and the low rumble of a basoon fills her ear, and she grins suddenly, for it is the sweetest music she's ever heard. As she moves her hand slowly through the air, the sound of the bassoon fades into low memory and ends.
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