Photo by Tadas Mikuckis on Unsplash

Jean-Paul Tremblay’s hands itched with the all-too-familiar burn that raged miles beneath the skin. It didn’t help that he was also being tortured by the most ham-fisted rendition of Grieg’s Piano Concerto he had ever heard.

“I’ve heard enough, Leslie.”

“It’s Lindsey.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not seeing the kind of improvement that shows me you’re serious.”