She pushed open the same greasy wooden door that swiftly glided across the dusty floor.  She squinted her eyes at the same garish light that pierced through the pale window blinds.  She grimaced as the same uneven and tattered wooden floor panels creaked with her every step. 

Everything had remained true, except for her.

           As she entered the familiar studio, her bundle of sacred memories that once lay hidden beneath a blanket of shadows now boldly attacked her like violent streaks of lightning.  Bittersweet flashbacks from her affair with music suddenly invaded her present thoughts.  Soon, she found herself relenting and fully indulging in these painful memories.

She once vowed to devote her entire life to him.

            She met him at the age of nine. She was hesitant to love him at first, for he bore a naturally unfeeling and haughty posture that induced others to fear him.  She thought that he had every reason in the world to be arrogant, for he was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid her eyes upon.  He had an impressive stately gracefulness about him and his majesty was like that of a valiant eagle soaring across the cloudless skies.   Everybody said that his shrewdness and cunning earned him the reputation of being “the Devil’s child”.  Yet she saw through his seemingly flawless disguise.  There was something exhilaratingly awesome about his fearfulness; a kind of seductive beauty that allured others to succumb to his wondrous mystery.  Concealed beneath his polished surface was the soulful vulnerability of a tremulous heart that was desperate for tenderness.
        

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        Her first attempts to know him were sheepish and awkward.  The strangeness of the situation was painfully obvious.  She, a plain and lonely child, had thought it possible to conquer a creature who was divine beyond her imagination.   Nevertheless, she persisted despite his cruel rejections.  She
endured his jarring screeches because she had faith that he would one day whisper a dream-like melody to her and fill her spirit with euphoria.  The river of tears that flowed for only him and the blood that she had shed for him only was not to be wasted.  She thought that her stubborn love for him could not be fathomed by any other. 
           For seven years she worshipped him with all her heart.  For seven years she graced him with countless hours of deft conversation.  Finally, her passion had shattered his stone-cold heart.  Finally, he had surrendered himself to the splendor of the music that only took flight with her touch.   He began to love the way her nimble fingers danced swiftly upon his delicate neck.  He became addicted to the harmony that would fill his heart when her bow pranced across his strings in smooth articulation.  He fell in love with the way residue rosin would pirouette in the air after she had surrendered her wrist to the fierceness of her motion. 
          The years of their affair were unforgettable. Whenever her arm entwined around his neck, they would begin dreaming of Vivaldi and singing to Beethoven.  Their union even received blessings from Mendelssohn.  He elevated her imagination to extraordinary places she had never dared dream of before.  His love had revolutionized her world and had given wings to her soul.
          Then she began to betray him.  His quiet beauty was not sufficient to satisfy the recklessness of her youth.  The raging fire that had once been ignited by his captivating mystery now diminished with every passing day.  The angelic joyfulness his music had once brought her now seemed daunting and burdensome.  Soon, she found herself so repelled by the creature that she had once found so irresistible. 
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        She had left him without so much as a second glance.  She had determined that the vastness of the universe guaranteed that there was some greater force of excitement waiting to be discovered.  She never realized that he was the only one truly capable of showing her such magnificence.
      When she realized that she still loved him, it was far too late.  With every passing day, the music that he had taught her spirit to love faded away into nothingness.  With every fleeting moment, the agile fingers that had once been graceful now became stiff with dispassion.
       She never wanted to let him go.  Even if he did not forgive her, she was still willing to offer her life to him.  Tonight, they will rendezvous once again at the place they first met.
       She pushed open the same greasy wooden door that swiftly glided across the dusty floor.  She squinted her eyes at the same garish light that pierced through the pale window blinds.  She grimaced as the same uneven and tattered wooden floor panels creaked with her every step. 
Everything had remained true, except for her.
        She finally directed her gaze to the same music stand that stood solitarily in the corner.  She finally felt the same butterflies flutter in her stomach as she focused her eyes on the lonely instrument that huddled in the corner like a child.  After all this time, she had finally decided to come home.
        Her movement became slow and meticulous, as if she wanted to savor every precious moment.  She carefully unwrapped the aged bow from its velvet sheath and gently applied rosin to its yellowed bow hairs.  Afterward, she removed him from the violin case and lightly brushed off the excess rosin dust that had accumulated on him over the years.
He was still every bit as beautiful as when she first met him.
She held him to her chin once again and began creating the music that he had first taught her to love.  Their Music.