And he held her because she asked him to, and he told her she was a beautiful and wanted woman, because he knew it had been years since those things were true.
On the other side of the shadowed room, a small music box sat alone. He gingerly opened it to hear the promise he tried to make.
Once the melody clicked incomplete, he didn't bother turning the box over. He didn't wind the key, as if it were too much trouble, as if it were too slow a release for a pleasure that should be instant. He closed the box shut a little too forcefully, a little too quickly.
He turned to the woman, now a frightened girl, and tried to promise her a future of music and beauty, but she knew the melody was over.
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