““It makes a beautiful sound.” “You can play it?” I’m impressed. My dad tried me on his drum once or twice, but it wasn’t a skill that came naturally to me. “A little.” “How did you learn?” “A woman in my compound was teaching me before she passed. Now I’m teaching myself. This was hers.” “Can I see it?” We catch eyes for an instant, his as deeply brown as mine but the lashes thicker, making his expression gentle. I look away, at his hands where they grip the edge of the case. “Of course you can.” Something about the way he says it—soft—makes my face hot.””
