“My name’s Maryse. Thanks!” I then rushed to find the stairs leading to the practice rooms.
There were so many little rooms each with pianos and mirrors in them. I went into one of them and started plucking away. It was just some random notes that were as far away from being symphonies or songs.
I took a look at myself in the mirror. Is this the face they see with my blonde hair in what some people have called ojo curls (I didn’t know what that meant. I assumed it was a Japanese term)?
Was everyone just poorer than me?
Was I that spoiled in their eyes?
Was I like that one Valor guy or Cliona before she turned good?
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 