Once-familiar strains of music thread through his dreams. Sunlight on Leaves. Mother Smiling. A Lute with Five Strings. They filled his days, weaving a net to hold back the memories; the pain.
Alone, abandoned, hiding.
Kote wakes trembling. Music, especially that music, belongs to a time and a person long gone. Not here. He rises and dresses, making the bed neatly. In the kitchen he starts the fire and begins breakfast. Later, he serves customers and cleans the spotless bar. Little everyday activities piling up like stones, forming a wall to hold back the memories; the pain.
Silence, hiding.